


The Journeying

by flowerfan



Series: Woods [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, AU after 6x01 breakup, BABB 2015, Depression/recovery, M/M, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freshly graduated from music school, Blaine is thrilled when he is chosen to stay in the cast when the production of <i>Into the Woods</i> he was lucky enough to be part of in Boston moves to Broadway.  He knows it’s going to be hard returning to New York City – the scene of his epic breakup with his fiancé and the emotional meltdown which cost him his place at NYADA.  But he’s determined that this time, everything will be different.  Little does Blaine know that out of thousands of potential castmates, his director has chosen none other than Kurt Hummel to play the part of Jack.  Blaine has worked hard to recover from their breakup three years ago, and struggles to find a new way to relate to Kurt and simultaneously protect himself, especially when tragedy strikes.   </p><p>This story looks at what would have happened if Kurt and Blaine had reacted differently to the break up in 6x01 than they did in canon; if events hadn’t brought them back together as soon, and if forgiveness hadn’t come so easily.</p><p>Canon compliant through the end of season 5 (and the breakup as described in 6x01).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Blaine Anderson Big Bang 2015. Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta perry_avenue for her constant encouragement and invaluable friendship, and to koryandr for the amazing artwork (coming soon!).
> 
> Warning: major character death (not Kurt or Blaine); discussion of past depression.
> 
> _Additional warning: The people in this story are not perfect. The characters you love may make (and may have made) bad decisions. But they do work things out in the end._

“What do you mean, you aren’t coming to New York?” Blaine freezes, his attention now fully on Matthew. His boyfriend is standing behind the kitchen table in their apartment, a tiny summer sublet in Somerville that is barely big enough for the furniture Matthew is using to separate himself from the wave of emotion that is pouring out of Blaine.

“My aunt says she might be able to get me a job in L.A. She’s in music production. You remember, I told you about her?” Matthew fidgets, moving away when Blaine edges closer.

“And you decided this when?” Blaine can feel his heart racing. “We’re moving in two weeks – my show starts rehearsing in three!” Blaine fights to calm his breathing, and after a few silent moments, he stretches a hand out to Matthew, palm up, questioning. “I thought you were excited about your internship in New York?” 

Matthew just shakes his head, and slides away. “I was, but…”

“There’s more going on, isn’t there.” Blaine slumps into a chair. “Is it Jamie?” Matthew hasn’t been able to stop talking about Jamie lately, this fascinating California boy Matthew had met in his film scoring class last semester. Blaine hadn’t wanted to believe anything was wrong. Jealously is so petty, he had told himself. So much for taking the high road.

Blaine looks up, and Matthew’s eyes are filling with tears. “Just tell me, okay?” He and Matthew had only been dating for a few months when they decided to share an apartment for the summer, but Blaine had thought things were going well between them, as well as they ever did with him and boyfriends, anyway. Matthew is gentle, and sweet, and has a somewhat distracted air about him that reminds Blaine fondly of Brittany. And Blaine can tell that this conversation is hard on Matthew, even as his own chest is clenching in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Matthew says softly. “I never meant to hurt you.” Matthew sniffs and rubs a hand across his face as he sits down in the other chair. “But I think I’m in love with him.”

That’s a blow Blaine isn’t prepared for. He and Matthew hadn’t ever said those words to each other, but Matthew’s already in love with Jamie? Not for the first time, Blaine thinks that Matthew seems so much younger than his twenty-one years. Blaine isn’t exactly old at twenty-two, but compared to Matthew, sometimes he feels ancient.

Blaine sighs and stands up, goes over to Matthew and gives him a sideways hug around his shoulders, which Matthew leans into gratefully. He’s not sure how he’s able to feel sympathy for Matthew right now, but somehow he does. Blaine should have known better than to think things could work out between them. He should have learned his lesson by now. Blaine knows he has his strengths – his role in an upcoming Broadway show is evidence of that. He’s good at lots of things. But love? Love is not one of them.

****

Two weeks later, Blaine is indeed in New York City. Back in the city of his dreams – or, at least, his ex-fiancé’s dreams - where he hasn’t been for more than a few days at a time since he got cut from NYADA at the end of his freshman year. 

It is no secret among his friends that Blaine has mixed feelings about New York. It had been the scene of so many painful events, including two breakups with Kurt, the second of which had sent him into a spiral of depression. After he arrived home in Lima with his tail between his legs, a few months coaching the Warblers and spending some quality time with a therapist had helped Blaine realize that he didn’t need New York – or Kurt – to reach for his dreams. With the help of a former professor who had disagreed with NYADA’s abrupt reaction to his illness, Blaine had applied to several other programs, and was thrilled to be accepted into the Berklee School of Music in Boston. 

Over the past three years, Blaine has come to love Boston. It’s a beautiful city, full of history, and is as liberal a place as one could hope to find. It has an active arts scene, with plenty of opportunities for an eager performer like himself. If he has to fight off the feeling that he’s only succeeded by being a big fish in a small pond, and is frankly a bit wary of returning to the ocean that is New York City, well, insecurity comes with the territory, and certainly isn’t a new experience for Blaine. 

Blaine thinks he would have been happy staying in Boston after graduation, perhaps indefinitely. And he might well return when his show’s run is over. Although he can’t help but hope that won’t be particularly soon. In a stroke of good fortune, Blaine had met one of Boston’s most successful directors in a playwriting seminar his sophomore year. When she put together a cutting edge version of Sondheim’s _Into the Woods_ last spring, Blaine had, miraculously, been cast as Cinderella’s Prince. It was a fantastic part, with an award-winning team, and Blaine was over the moon. 

Even more miraculously, when the show was picked up for Broadway, the director asked him to continue in the role. It wasn’t unusual for roles to be recast in this situation – indeed, the major leads, including the Baker, the Baker’s Wife, and the Witch were going to be filled by older, established Broadway stars – but Blaine and Mona, one of his closest friends at school, along with a few other actors from the Boston production, would be coming along for the ride. “Big break” didn’t even really seem to cover it, and Blaine could hardly believe his luck.

But now he’s actually here, in New York City. It’s not how he had imagined it – neither during the times he had let himself wonder, back when his breakup with Kurt was still fresh, if things might reverse themselves again between him and Kurt, or much more recently when he thought about introducing Matthew to all the things he loved about New York. Instead he’s camping out on Mona’s couch, in a one-bedroom apartment in the East Village she is subletting from her cousin. 

“You need to stop apologizing,” Mona says, as Blaine tries to shove a box onto the top shelf of her hall closet. Mona has given up trying to help Blaine put away his things; she is a petite blond who is stronger than she looks, but she still can’t reach that shelf successfully. Apparently, neither can Blaine.

“I feel bad about taking up all your storage space.” Blaine sighs and lets the box drop to the floor with a thump. It just doesn’t fit.

“We can put some of it in the basement. Honestly, Blaine, stop stressing about this.”

He’s not really that worried about where to put his winter sweaters, but it’s easier to focus on that than the fact that Mona’s apartment is just a few blocks away from NYADA, and pretty much every tourist activity Mona had dragged him on in the past two days just brings back more memories of Kurt. Walking in Central Park with Kurt, going to Serendipity’s for frozen hot chocolate with Kurt, strolling the High Line with Kurt… ugh. He knows that creating new memories will help, but it’s still painful. He’s tempted to suggest they go to a Yankee game – at least he never did that with Kurt.

“Come on, we have to be uptown soon. You can finish that tomorrow.” Mona bumps her shoulder up against Blaine’s, a smile on her face. “Jon said he’s bringing some friends to dinner.”

“Some friends?” Blaine had a feeling he knew what this meant. Jon had graduated from Berklee the year before, but somehow still hadn’t stopped playing matchmaker for his former classmates. He had in fact been responsible for setting Blaine up with Matthew, even long distance. Of course, given recent events, that wasn’t much of a recommendation.

“Just a few people from his day job. He’s a singing waiter at that place near Times Square.”

Blaine winces. “The Spotlight Diner?”

Mona nods. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” She pokes him in the shoulder. “Don’t say you hate that place, too.”

“I don’t hate it,” Blaine protests. “It’s just that…”

“Tell me Kurt used to work there,” Mona says, not particularly gently.

“Kurt used to work there,” Blaine replies obediently, hanging his head.

Mona sighs. “That was years ago, Blaine. He hasn’t contaminated all of New York for you, has he?”

Blaine sucks in a deep breath. “No, of course he hasn’t. And I’m sure he doesn’t work there anymore.”

“And even if he did, what are the odds that Jon would be bringing him tonight?”

Blaine shudders and pulls out his phone. “I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.”

After confirming that no, Jon was not bringing Kurt to dinner (“Kurt? Is that the guy that ruined your life? Why would I do that to you?”) he and Mona head out to the subway. Blaine refrains from mentioning how many times he and Kurt had gotten on this very train…. He really has to cut it out. Blaine had started fresh in Boston, had made new friends, had done well in school, and is now on his way to the next exciting chapter in his career. And Kurt Hummel isn’t any part of it.

*****

After a week of being back in New York, Blaine feels as if he has gotten his sea legs. He has adjusted to the crowded streets, the noise at night, and the fact that pretty much everything is going to remind him of Kurt. But he makes a point of stopping by some of the places he doesn’t associate with his ex-fiancé – the tiny shop where he used to meet Sam for coffee, the bookstore that Kurt didn’t like because he said it smelled like sadness, the bar where the Warblers had an impromptu reunion that Kurt had been too busy to attend. In fact Blaine makes a point of gathering Mona, Jon, and a few other Berklee grads at that same bar the night before his first _Into the Woods_ rehearsal.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mona asks as Blaine leads her inside. “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. I need to make a good impression.”

Blaine laughs. “Just because we’re going out doesn’t mean you need to get drunk, Mona.”

“I know that, in theory…” Mona drags out the word. They’ve had this conversation before. “But Jon is coming, and you know how he doesn’t like to drink alone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t want me to be mean to our friend, do you?”

“Certainly not.” Blaine waves at Jon, who is entering the bar right behind them, and slides into an ample booth. “But you could keep him company drinking soda, couldn’t you?”

“Who’s drinking soda?” Jon queries, giving Blaine a quick hug and a hearty pat on the back, and then sliding into the booth next to Mona. He’s tall, but folds himself easily next to her, looping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss into her blond hair. “Just Blaine, right?” 

Blaine’s friends know he doesn’t drink. Most of them don’t know the details, but except for Mona, no one has really asked. He suspects sometimes that she feeds them little bits and pieces of information about him, but whether they know that alcohol doesn’t mix with the meds he used to take for depression, and that even when he came off the meds, he decided that he was better off without it, he isn’t sure. 

Soon they are joined by several more former classmates, who crowd into the booth and begin chatting away. Julian, who plays the violin and is destined for certain greatness, as demonstrated by his new position with the New York Philharmonic, is eager to hear all about the gossip at Berklee since he graduated the year before. Before long, however, Anjali cuts him off. “Stop living in the past,” she chides him, shooting Blaine a look that seems to indicate her comment is meant for him as well. “Here we are, together again in the greatest city in the world. Let’s talk about now.”

Drinks are ordered, including a margarita for Mona (“Just one,” she announces to the table, “We’ve got our first rehearsal tomorrow,”) and an iced tea for Blaine. Anjali’s girlfriend shows up and insists on ordering nachos, mozzarella sticks, and, as she describes it, anything else with more fat than sense – Lucy has just found out that she was accepted into the graduate program in music at Columbia, starting the next semester, and she is in a celebratory mood. No one comments on Blaine’s choice of drinks, or his abstention from the snacks which led him down the road to ruin last time he lived in the city. 

Blaine is eternally grateful for his friends’ easy acceptance of him. In so many ways, he owes a lot to the people he found in college, who became his new family. It wasn’t something he expected, fitting in so neatly with this group of musicians, but it’s wonderful, and he doesn’t take it for granted. And except for in his darkest, most self-doubting moments, he definitely does not compare them to the people he hung out with in high school, most of whom he has hardly exchanged a word with in years.

Later, he’s up at the jukebox, debating his next selections, when Anjali joins him. Her dark hair is pulled back tonight, showing off the line of sparkly diamonds in one ear, and she looks beautiful in a vibrant silk tank top and multicolored long skirt that flows as she moves. Blaine can see the way Lucy’s eyes follow her as she walks across the room, and he’s glad for them. They’ve been inseparable since they met in the composition class the three of them took junior year, when Blaine watched the girls go from rivals to best friends, and then something more, over the course of one drama-filled semester.

“How are you holding up, B?” Anjali asks, her brown eyes radiating concern. 

She’s not wasting any time, Blaine thinks. “What’s Mona been telling you?”

Anjali scoffs. “I don’t need Mona to tell me anything. Your profile picture changed, and you sent out an email with a new address – different than the first new address email you sent a month ago.”

Blaine vows to stop using Facebook. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. “I’m fine. Matthew and I weren’t that serious.”

Anjali bites her lip, then places her hand on top of Blaine’s where it rests on the jukebox. “I know being back here could be hard for you. But you’ve got a fantastic role in what’s going to be the hottest play on Broadway, with a director who’s pretty much in love with you.”

“She is not,” Blaine protests.

“All right, how about in awe of your youthful talent?”

“I’ll take that,” Blaine says, blushing. It really is true that his director adores him.

“Anyway, you need to make the most of this. Focus on your show, on your work, on the music. You’ll be okay, I know you will.”

Blaine nods and pulls Anjali into a hug. “Thank you.” He thinks he will be okay, especially with his friends to support him. There’s no need for his second time in New York to bear any resemblance to his first. He’s not doomed to have his heart broken, or face career disaster. Not this time.

*****

If Blaine ever gets a tattoo (and he doesn’t think he ever will, but you never know), he wonders if “Famous Last Words” would be appropriate.

*****

The next morning he and Mona get up early, not wanting to be late to their first rehearsal with the new cast. Blaine makes coffee while Mona uses the bathroom, and he makes sure to fold up the sofa bed and neaten up the living room before she comes out. She really doesn’t seem to mind him sleeping on the couch, but there’s no need to push his luck. 

When they are both showered and dressed, they sit at the small kitchen table, Blaine’s toe tapping nervously on the linoleum floor. 

“It’s too early to leave now, isn’t it?” Mona asks.

Blaine glances at his watch. “Mmm. Even if it takes us an hour, we’d still be an hour early.”

“It took us fifteen minutes yesterday when we timed it.” Mona points out. “But that wasn’t a weekday. There’s rush hour traffic.”

“True. But we’re not driving.”

“God, why am I so nervous?” Mona sighs, standing up and starting to pace. “We’ve run this show hundreds of times, and I don’t even have many lines.” Mona plays Lucinda, one of the step-sisters. It’s a fun part, with some nice comedic moments, but definitely not a lead.

Blaine, on the other hand, is Cinderella’s Prince, played by Chris Pine in the movie version that had come out in 2014, which of course he had seen multiple times. It didn’t matter that the Broadway version with Bernadette Peters as the Witch was the one he had grown up watching on DVD over and over, the image of the show that most people would have in their minds now would feature Meryl Streep and the rest of the Hollywood stars that had been in the movie. It’s a lot of pressure on Blaine either way.

Mona gives him a look, and is quick to guess what he is thinking. “If they didn’t think you could do it, they wouldn’t have asked you to stay in the show.” She sits down next to him and bumps his shoulder. “And everyone knows you can do it, because you did it for months in Boston, to rave reviews. You’re going to be great.”

Blaine smiles at Mona, and then takes in a deep breath. “Okay, we’re going to get out of here now before we work ourselves up any further. We can stop and get coffee on the way – maybe if we leave now, we can even get cronuts.”

Mona gives Blaine a look. “Cronuts? But I thought…”

“It’s our first day in a Broadway cast. Special occasion treat.”

“Deal.”

By the time they get to the building near Times Square where rehearsals will take place for the next few weeks, they have managed to while away most of their extra time. But they are still a half hour early, which turns out not to be a problem at all as Blaine is quickly caught up in conversation with some of the tech crew who he knows from the Boston run. The stage manager comes up and gives him a big hug, leaning down to do it – Peggy may be the tallest woman he has ever met, and her short dark hair and black clothes don’t do much to tone down her imposing image. But she’s got that patient, problem-solving determination that so many backstage people have, and she’s always had a soft spot for Blaine. And she adores cronuts.

“You didn’t have to bring breakfast for everyone,” Peggy protests, her mouth already full. “But I’m glad you did.”

“He’s just hoping Melissa Carlyle will notice him,” Mona jokes, giving Blaine a smile. Melissa is the Tony-award winning actress who has been cast as the Baker’s Wife. Mona isn’t entirely wrong – Blaine has been eagerly looking forward to meeting her. She’s been one of his idols for as long as he can remember. 

The director clears her throat and asks everyone to take a seat at the long rectangular table in the middle of the room. There are still a few people finding their way in, and another group congregating around Bill, the music director, who is seated at a nearby piano. After glancing around to see if there seems to be any rhyme or reason to the seating arrangement, Blaine looks up to see Deb, the director, smiling at him. “Sit anywhere for now,” she says, and so Blaine sits, Mona taking the seat next to him.

Blaine takes out his script and folds it open to the first page. He knows his parts by heart, of course, having just finished a run of the show, but doesn’t want to look like a show off. There are more people than space at the table, and Blaine and Mona scoot their chairs over a little, trying to make room for everyone to fit in. 

“Don’t look now, but Melissa’s here, and Steve Franklin.” Steve is playing the Baker, and happens to be one of Blaine’s favorite Broadway actors. He can’t believe they are going to share a stage. Blaine cranes his head to try to get a glimpse, but from where he is sitting the people at the other end of the table on his side are completely hidden.

“Let’s get started,” the director begins. “Introductions first, I think.” Blaine hears Melissa and then Steve introduce themselves, and takes a slow breath to compose himself, anticipating his own turn. Certainly he’ll be able to say his name and his part without flubbing it, right?

But suddenly a voice speaks up, and Blaine feels all the blood rush out of his head. 

“Hi, I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be playing Jack.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Hi, I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be playing Jack.”_

Blaine barely hears Mona’s whispered “oh shit,” as he struggles not to bolt out of the room. He probably wouldn’t make it, anyway, with the way his legs have turned to jello. There are only three people left on his side of the table before his turn comes, then two, then…

Blaine opens his mouth and speaks, pleased that anything actually comes out. “I’m Blaine Anderson, and I’m thrilled to be continuing my role as Cinderella’s Prince.” He feels Mona’s hand tight on his thigh, and then she is speaking. The introductions continue, but Blaine doesn’t really hear anything. He is suddenly hyper aware of his body, where his hands are resting on the table, exactly how he is holding his head. He can’t move, can’t look over to where Kurt might now be staring at him, can’t glance over to Mona, can’t do anything except try to keep breathing.

Blaine really can’t believe this is happening. He would have been fine with seeing Kurt again one day, maybe ten years from now when Blaine had made it on his own – after he had won his first Tony and adopted two adorable twin babies with his handsome future husband. But now Kurt is here, in this room, with a lead part in his show. _His_ breakout show, the show that Blaine fought his way into after years of depression and recovery and sweat and tears. Maybe there really isn’t any room in New York for him, not with Kurt still here. Maybe he should just go back to Boston, back to his little pond, where life is safe and completely Kurt-free. Because this is just too scary, and Blaine is not ready for it.

Introductions apparently complete, the director has a few questions for the leads, who are all gathered near her at the head of the table, and the rest of the cast begins speaking quietly among themselves. Mona takes this opportunity to turn to Blaine, putting her hand on his arm, and giving him a little shake until he snaps out of his paralysis and looks at her.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You okay?”

Blaine can’t think of how to respond. He really isn’t okay, he’s far from okay. He just blinks at his friend. Her concern is apparent, and her blond hair swings around her face as she leans close to him.

“Blaine, you’re going to be fine. Don’t let him throw you. You’ve got an important part in this show, and you are fantastic at it. You can do this, you know you can.”

That really isn’t the point. He knows he can do the part well – he’s not afraid of Kurt critiquing his performance. He's just afraid of Kurt.

The director gets their attention again and instructs Bill to start playing. They jump right into a read-through of the show, which is really a “sing-through” given how much of the show is sung and not spoken. If they only read the spoken lines, they’d be done in twenty minutes.

The long prologue begins with the narrator, and then Cinderella starts off the theme singing “I wish… more than anything… more than life…” Blaine tries to focus – he hasn’t met the woman playing Cinderella yet, but he has seen her perform in another of Deb’s productions, and he thinks she’ll do a great job. 

Then Kurt’s voice rings out, as clear and as beautiful as ever. He sings the lament of young Jack, whose cow is his best friend, but she has lost her milk and therefore must be sold. His voice and Cinderella’s intertwine with those of the Baker and the Baker’s Wife, and soon the Witch. Even Mona, as a stepsister, has a few lines in this opening song, chiding Cinderella. Blaine gives her a smile as she finishes her section, proud of his friend.

It’s lucky for Blaine that he can just sit and listen, however, as he desperately needs the time to get a hold of himself. He breaths deeply, and lets himself sink into the music. Even with Kurt’s voice reaching out to him from the other end of the room (“Into the woods to sell a friend…”) he can feel his heartbeat returning to normal, the familiar rhythm of the song calming him. He can do this, he can play his part with humor, and emotion, and the suave charm that Cinderella’s Prince is known for (“I was raised to be charming, not sincere”). 

By the time the cast has reached the climax of the long opening number (“Into the woods to get the thing that makes it worth the journeying. Into the woods to see the king – to sell the cow – to make the potion…”) Blaine has regained his composure. When it’s finally his turn to sing, Blaine spares a moment to thank whoever has put him in this crazy position that at least he doesn’t have to sing with Kurt. He catches the eye of the man playing Rapunzel’s Prince, his duet partner for “Agony,” and they launch into the song, earning a few laughs along the way. When it’s finished Mona squeezes his knee and leans close, whispering congratulations into his ear.

The rest of the read-through passes in a blur. Cinderella’s Prince doesn’t have much interaction with Jack, which is obviously a very good thing. The scene where Blaine’s character seduces the Baker’s Wife goes well, Melissa standing up and moving around the table so that she can actually see Blaine, who stands up too. She gives Blaine a little nod and a smile when they are done, and he feels a warm rush of pride as he sits back down. He just sang a song with a Broadway star – if nothing else, if he crashes and burns and runs back to Boston with his tail between his legs, no one can take that away from him.

By the time they reach the Finale, where all of the characters sing together about what they have learned from going into the woods, Blaine is so full of adrenaline that he almost forgets that Kurt is in the room. Or, to be more accurate, he knows Kurt is there, but he forgets why that’s a bad thing. Even though he can’t see Kurt, he can hear his voice, and he has to be honest, he loves Kurt’s voice. It’s like nothing else in the world. The boy he loved – a man now, he thinks – is talented, and this cast is amazing, and they all sound fantastic together. The show is going to be a success, he just knows it, and from the looks on everyone’s faces, they all know it.

When they finish (Cinderella’s last “I wish…” echoing through the room) the cast breaks out into cheers. Deb stands up and quiets them, reminding them that there’s still a lot of work left to do before previews begin. She starts to run through some administrative details, and people pull out their phones and planners to take notes.

Blaine has his phone in his hand when it vibrates with a new text. 

**From Kurt:**   
**You were fantastic. I’m so glad we have this opportunity to work together.**

Mona apparently feels him freeze – or maybe the choking sound he made was louder than he thought – so he passes her his phone. “You never changed your number?” she asks.

Blaine shakes his head. “Why should I have to?”

“So why are you so surprised?”

“It’s been years, Mona. Years, and not a word. You’d think he could come talk to me in person.”

Mona sighs. “We’ll be done here in a few minutes – you’ll have plenty of time to talk in person. Maybe he’s just trying to break the ice.”

But when the meeting breaks up, the director calls a group over to work with Bill on the first number, and the rest of them are excused. Kurt’s name is called to stay, and Blaine breathes a sigh of relief as he gets up and scurries out of the room. Mona dashes out into the hallway with him, but she’s in the first number, too, so she just gives him a quick hug. “You okay?” she asks, tilting her head at him. “Want me to blow this off and come home with you?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, of course not. I’m fine.” Which wasn’t completely a lie.

“Fine enough, at least?” she says wryly.

“Exactly.”

“Go home and go for a run, or something. I’ll see you back there soon.” Mona gives him a kiss on the cheek and goes back inside the room, where Bill has already started playing the Prologue again. 

Blaine tries to sort out his feelings as he makes his way home on the train, so caught up in his thoughts that he almost misses his subway stop. If he’s so upset about Kurt being in the production, then why did part of him want to just plant himself in the hallway outside the rehearsal room and listen, to hear Kurt sing again? 

The memory of the night Kurt broke up with him is still fresh, even though years have passed. Blaine so easily remembers the sound of the rain falling on the plastic sheeting keeping the café patrons dry. He remembers the feel of his damp clothes as he joined Kurt, so excited to tell him his latest wedding planning news. He remembers when the words came out of his mouth that he wishes he had never spoken – “do you even want to marry me?” – and when Kurt said that he didn’t. “Maybe I don’t,” his fiancé had said, the words falling out of his mouth sharper than daggers. It was the biggest shock Blaine had ever received in his life. Nothing had prepared him for the possibility that Kurt would just break it off, just like that, without any warning. Nothing.

That night Kurt had gone to stay with Elliott, and Blaine curled up on the couch in the loft, crying until he thought he would turn himself inside out with pain. Kurt wouldn’t answer his phone. The next day Blaine packed a suitcase and went to a hotel. He sent Kurt a text to let him know it was safe to return to the apartment. Kurt didn’t respond. 

Blaine assumed he would get a chance to talk to Kurt at school, but it soon became clear that Kurt was avoiding him. That whole first week, Kurt was absent from the one class they shared together, and every time Blaine thought for sure he would bump into him in the hallways, all he managed to catch was a glimpse of the back of Kurt’s head as he dashed away. Once Blaine realized what was happening – Kurt really meant it, they were through, there wasn’t going to be any heartfelt reconciliation - it became harder and harder for Blaine to force himself to go to class, or even to get out of bed. Then Madam Tibideaux delivered her news, and Blaine was on his way back to Lima. It was over.

In the days and weeks following the break-up Blaine had run through that conversation in his head a million times. Did he say something that made Kurt decide to end it? Did he push him into a corner? Did he bring this on himself? But in the end, it didn’t matter. They were through.

Back at the apartment, Blaine makes himself a cup of tea and sits down on the couch. His phone dings with a text, and he freezes, wondering if it’s Kurt again. But it’s just Mona, asking if they can get Thai food for dinner.

He re-reads Kurt’s text, knowing he should really reply to it. What he said to Mona earlier isn’t completely true – Kurt had reached out a few times in the years since their breakup. The first time was soon after Blaine had moved back to Lima, in a text full of exclamation points and capital letters, Kurt almost as shocked as Blaine was that NYADA had cut him. Blaine hadn’t responded – he really wasn’t talking to anyone at that point, not even the therapist his mother was making him see. Kurt tried again a year later, when he sent around a group email announcing his latest project. He had re-sent it to Blaine with an additional message at the bottom, saying it would be great to see him if he could make it. Blaine hadn’t replied to that one either, and he didn’t have mind numbing depression as an excuse that time, just the lingering hurt and anger he still hadn’t managed to get over. Kurt didn’t try again, and Blaine didn’t really blame him.

But a lot of time has passed since then, and Blaine knows he isn’t the same person he was back when he proposed to Kurt, desperate to find a way to hang on to the one person he had put all his energy into loving for so long. It’s taken a considerable amount of work, and some painful soul searching, but he understands now that his happiness can’t be found in another person, and that maybe he really wasn’t ready back then to share his life so thoroughly with someone else, not without being more sure of himself, first. He has friends now who like him for who he is, not because of his relationship to Kurt, and he has found professional success all on his own. He’s in a good place, a great one.

And if he really is a professional, the least he can do is behave like one. 

Blaine scrolls to Kurt’s text. While he means to say something friendly and low key, the words he types are more honest than he originally intended. _It was wonderful to hear your voice. Look forward to seeing you tomorrow._ He hits send, and then throws his head back with a groan. This cannot end well, he thinks. Because despite everything, he really is looking forward to seeing Kurt again. He simply can’t help it. No matter what’s happened, there is a part of him that will always be in love with Kurt Hummel. He’s doomed, and he knows it.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days pass quickly. Rehearsals are intense. Everyone is getting used to their new scene partners and, for most of the cast, new roles. Blaine doesn’t seek Kurt out, but they nod shyly to each other a few times, and during one break, Kurt flashes Blaine a smile when he hands him a bottle of water, their fingers not quite touching. It’s almost as if both of them are afraid to say anything, to jostle the truce that seems to have been reached. 

This is working fine for Blaine. No one there except Mona knows about him and Kurt, so their interactions (or lack thereof) seem perfectly normal. Blaine is having a great time getting to know his new colleagues, even stammering his way through a few conversations with Melissa and Steve. He doesn’t really forget that Kurt is there, of course – and he’s never been more carefully dressed for rehearsals – but it’s working out fine. When Kurt catches his eye his expression is always calm, almost gentle. He’s not pushing it.

Friday afternoon the director lets them go a little early, and Mark announces that everyone is invited over to his place for a bonding party. Mark plays Rapunzel’s Prince, who is Blaine’s brother in the show. His easygoing personality and good humor have made rehearsing their scenes together a breeze. Mark is a few years older than Blaine, and has been in several Broadway and off-Broadway productions, but this is the biggest role he’s had so far, and he’s just as excited about it as Blaine is. 

Later that evening, when Blaine and Mona arrive at the address Mark had sent around, the party is already in full swing. Mark finds them quickly, slinging an arm over Blaine’s shoulder and steering him through the crowd. “So glad you could make it, bro,” he jokes, filling two large plastic cups with something that looks like pink lemonade. “A toast to being Charming!” Mark cries, and taps his cup against the one he handed to Blaine.

Blaine knows the drink is alcoholic the minute it touches his lips, but he figures now isn’t the time to announce his tea-totaling nature. Tonight is for bonding, and perhaps proper bonding requires a little bit of alcoholic lubrication. It isn’t as if he can’t drink, he tells himself, finishing the cup of sweet liquid. He just chooses not to, most of the time, and tonight will simply be an exception.

Several glasses later, Blaine has completely forgotten why he ever decided to stop drinking. The party is fantastic, the music is fantastic, everyone there is fantastic. There is a piano in the room – of course, he thinks – and he plays along for a few of the cast members as they belt out their favorite tunes. A bit of a line forms, and then a voice he knows far too well is requesting that he accompany him.

Blaine just gazes dumbly at Kurt as he asks him to play “Being Alive,” his hands frozen on the keys, and then Bill scoots on to the piano bench, pushing Blaine out of the way. “Time for the professionals to take over,” Bill says, and starts in on the opening chords.

Blaine stands next to the piano, unable to take his eyes off Kurt as he beings to sing the Sondheim song about wanting to have love, even if it hurts. “Someone to hold you too close, someone to hurt you too deep…”

Mona squeezes in next to him and curls her arm around his. “Your boy is pretty amazing, isn’t he.”

“He’s not my boy.”

“Somebody hold me too close, somebody force me to care,” Kurt sings. He has the crowd mesmerized, his voice so full of pain and strength. His eyes find Blaine’s, and Blaine can hardly breathe. He may have had a few too many drinks, but if Kurt isn’t singing this song to him, then Blaine never knew him at all.

“Someone you have to let in, someone whose feelings you spare.” Ha. That was a joke. Kurt certainly hadn’t ever spared his feelings, at least not at the end. Blaine looks down, away, suddenly wanting to bolt, but Mona tightens her grip on his arm, whispers something in his ear he doesn’t hear. When he looks up, Kurt is gazing around the room, including everyone in his performance, but then he turns back to Blaine. The look on his face is gutting as he sings the last chorus.

“Somebody crowd me with love, somebody force me to care. Somebody make me come through, I’ll always be there, as frightened as you. To help us survive, being alive, being alive, being alive…”

Everyone bursts into applause and cheers as Kurt belts out the last note, and Blaine slides out of Mona’s grip. Mark is still standing by the punch bowl, fulfilling his role as host, and when he catches sight of Blaine’s face he fills him another cup. “Not a fan of _Company?_ ” Mark asks.

Blaine huffs out a laugh, takes the cup from Mark and drinks it down. The punch doesn’t seem as sweet as it did before, but maybe that’s just because his taste buds have been pickled.

“I get the feeling there’s a story here,” Mark comments, but before Blaine can decide whether to tell him that he knew Kurt when, Kurt appears in front of him.

“Blaine,” he says, still a little out of breath from the adrenaline rush of his performance. “Can we talk?”

Kurt’s eyes are shining brightly, blue-green like the Caribbean sea, and Blaine is momentarily lost as he meets Kurt’s gaze. The music switches to something with an infecting rhythm – sing-along time is clearly over, no one wanting to follow Kurt – and Blaine has a better idea. “Let’s dance.”

Kurt grins, and they push their way over to the space that has been cleared for dancing. It’s hot, and Blaine can feel the sweat beginning to drip down his back under his shirt, but he doesn’t care. Kurt does a little shimmy, a flashback to high school, and Blaine just lets himself go, lets himself forget every bad thing that has happened since then. It’s just Kurt-and-Blaine again, bright and happy and carefree.

Blaine doesn’t know how long they dance, but eventually there’s a pause in the music and Kurt suggests they get some air. But Peggy stops them as they make their way towards the door, wanting to introduce Blaine to her brother, who’s in the city for a visit, and somehow Kurt takes this opportunity to get them each another cup of punch. He’s standing close to Blaine now, and the scent of Kurt’s sweat mixed with some new cologne is washing over him. Blaine can’t decide if it’s making him feel queasy or turned on, or maybe both.

They stumble out to the hallway, Blaine realizing that he is far past tipsy and well into drunk. He can’t tell for sure if Kurt is as affected as he is, but he’s smiling and giggling in a way that suggests he might be. Outside Kurt trips over an invisible bump in the sidewalk and Blaine reaches out to catch him, and then Kurt is lacing his arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. Blaine’s face is pressed against Kurt’s neck, and he almost sobs, the touch of Kurt’s skin against his lips is so overwhelming.

“Come back to my place?” Kurt asks, his voice shaky in Blaine’s ear.

The cab ride seems to fly by, and before he knows it Blaine is up against the wall inside Kurt’s apartment, and Kurt is pressing frantic kisses up and down his neck. Words are spilling out of Kurt’s mouth in between kisses, “missed you, missed this, so sorry, I’m so sorry,” and Blaine is saying things back, babbling nonsense and happiness and want. Kurt slides his hands between Blaine and the wall, grabbing Blaine’s ass to bring him closer, and Blaine hears himself moan with desire, long and low. He knows with a flash of drunken insight that this is a big, big, mistake, but he can’t bring himself to make them stop. It just feels too good, and it’s been too long. And most of all, above everything else, it’s Kurt.

They’re on the couch, Kurt straddling Blaine, running his hands up and down his chest. Kurt rucks up Blaine’s shirt, doesn’t even have the patience to undo the buttons, and is licking one nipple while pulling and tugging at the other. Blaine can’t think at all. He’s lost in it. His body is on fire, but he can hardly move, he just lies there and lets the sensations flow through him. His head falls to the side, and he sees Kurt’s shoes lined up by the front door, boots and brogues and loafers… and he is suddenly reminded of packing his suitcase, back in the loft the day after Kurt broke off their engagement, sorting through the shoes in their entryway, separating out what was his from what was Kurt’s. 

Kurt, who is currently sucking what is likely to be a remarkably impressive hickey into the skin over Blaine’s collarbone, his hips thrusting restlessly against his own.

“Kurt.” Blaine forces himself to speak, but not much comes out.

“Mmm, Blaine, so good,” Kurt sighs, then goes back to attacking his neck.

“No, Kurt… stop.”

Kurt freezes and looks at Blaine, his eyes wide and confused. “What?”

Blaine pushes Kurt off and sits up, and is hit with a wave of nausea that makes clear that sudden movement was a bad idea. He stands up and only has a moment to realize he has no clue where the bathroom is, and barely makes it to the sink in the tiny kitchen before he’s puking his guts up. His hands grip the countertop as he heaves, keeping himself upright. When it seems like there’s nothing left, he cleans the sink as best as he can, rinses his mouth out, and washes his face with dish soap. The smell of the scrub brush on the side of the sink makes him want to puke again, but his body seems to understand that there’s no point to it anymore.

Blaine glances over to the couch and sees that Kurt has fallen asleep. He’s lying on his side, looking thoroughly debauched, his hair crazy and his shirt pushed up under his armpits. His mouth is slightly open and he’s snoring a little. Blaine wobbles over to him, reaches out to smooth his hair, and his heart clenches. This isn’t right. 

Blaine stays for a few more minutes, reassuring himself that while Kurt may be as intoxicated as he is, he doesn’t seem to be in any danger. He leaves a glass of water on the coffee table for Kurt and lets himself out.

When he gets back to his own apartment, he finds that Mona has already made up his bed, and he gratefully climbs under the covers. His last thought before he passes out is that maybe when he wakes up, it will all have been a dream – maybe he didn’t just have a drunken, thoughtless hookup with his ex-fiancé.

The next morning Blaine wakes to the sight of Mona hovering by the side of the couch. “Hey, cutie. You okay?”

Blaine sits up carefully, bracing himself for another wave of nausea. It’s there, but he doesn’t feel the need to rush to the bathroom, so that’s an improvement. 

“Want some coffee, or some juice?” Mona nods towards the kitchen table, where she has set out some breakfast. Apparently she’s been up and about for a while.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

Shit. They have rehearsal at noon, the late start a nod to the fact that it’s the weekend. “I’m not sure I should eat anything.” Blaine stands up shakily.

Mona gives him a wry look. “All the times you refused to play drinking games with us, and you pick now to fall off the wagon.”

Blaine doesn’t laugh, and Mona seems to realize the situation isn’t actually funny. “Is there anything I can do?”

Blaine shakes his head, regretting it as the movement just increases the pounding in his skull. “No, I’m okay.” He makes it to the bathroom before his stomach rebels again, dry heaves into the toilet a few times, and then sinks down to the floor. He hadn’t managed to close the door, though, and Mona shows up a few minutes later, holding out a glass.

“Try some ginger ale? You might be able to keep a few Advil down with it.” She waits as Blaine takes the glass, and then hands him some pills, which he swallows with trepidation.

“Thank you.”

Mona sits down on the bathroom floor next to him, which is particularly brave of her since it’s a very small room, and Blaine knows he must stink to high heaven. “You went home with Kurt, didn’t you?” she says softly.

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t seem happy.”

Blaine shrugs. “It was an alcohol-induced make-out session.” Thank god it hadn’t gone further, Blaine thinks. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“But Kurt is clearly interested in you.” Mona toys idly with the roll of toilet paper, spinning it back and forth. The noise makes Blaine’s head throb. “That song…”

“Is he really? Or was he just drunk, and eager to fall into something that feels good?” And boy, did it feel good, Blaine thinks sadly. “We didn’t even talk. We just…” Blaine trails off. He’s not sure how to properly describe it. 

“Oh. Well, if he was interested in, you know, getting back together or something, would you be?”

This is a question Blaine has been avoiding thinking about for the whole week. Because he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, and he hates himself for it. He was supposed to be over Kurt Hummel. He was supposed to have moved on. He’s not supposed to still be in love with the man that broke his heart.

And yet all week long he’s been watching Kurt. He can’t help it. It’s only been a few years, but Kurt is subtly different than when Blaine last knew him. He’s more confident, more sure of himself in a way that smooths his movements, calms his voice. He’s lost some of his bouncing excitement over things that entertain him – Blaine can’t tell if it is a deliberate decision to moderate his reactions, or if Kurt is just less excited about life. He wants to know more. What has Kurt’s life been like without him? Did he find true love – is that what has mellowed him? Or does the way Kurt keeps sneaking glances at him across the room mean he’s still looking? 

Blaine wishes he could get closer to Kurt without risking getting hurt all over again. Blaine’s life is finally on track, he has friends who care about him, and his career is going monumentally well… the thought of ending up back where he was after their break-up, wrecked and depressed, is too painful to contemplate.

Somehow Blaine gets himself ready for rehearsal, showers and dresses and eats a few bites of toast. Mona treats him gently, doesn’t even tease him about the fact that he forgets to gel his hair at all, and is wearing the vintage ABBA t-shirt she got him for his birthday – which he usually saves for cleaning the house. So sue me, he thinks, playing with the hem of the shirt as they head towards the subway. It makes me feel better. I need all the help I can get today.

When they get to rehearsal, the room is oddly quiet as the cast gathers around the table. Many of them are apparently in the same hungover boat as Blaine. Deb saunters in cheerfully, but quickly gets the lay of the land, smirking when half of them grimace at the sound of her chair squeaking as she pulls it out. “I suppose I have you and your punch to thank for this?” she asks Mark, who just buries his head in his hands and mutters an apology. “Better you all get it out of your system now,” she says, looking around the room. “But don’t think you’re getting out of rehearsal.”

The afternoon is torture. Blaine catches a glimpse of Kurt as he and some of the other actors move into another room, and he looks decidedly green. They don’t have any time to talk, which is just as well, as Blaine can barely keep his mind focused on his lines. 

Deb lets him and Mark go after they have run their songs a few times, apparently realizing that she’s not going to get much more done with them in their current state. Blaine is slinging his dance bag over his shoulder and heading towards the door when Kurt comes up behind him.

“Blaine – Hey. Wait up.”

He turns. Of course, in typical Kurt fashion, Kurt may be hungover, but he is dressed impeccably, a paisley short-sleeve button down tucked into tight emerald pants. 

“Hi.” It’s not much, but it’s all he’s got right now.

“I’ve got to stay, but maybe we could have dinner later? Or coffee?” 

Kurt looks so hopeful, but it’s just confusing, Blaine thinks helplessly. This whole thing is confusing. Does Kurt think what happened wasn’t just a mistake? What if he wants to get back together? They haven’t even talked about what happened when they broke up – why would things be any different this time? If Kurt wants him again, Blaine’s not sure he could refuse him, even if it’s the right thing to do. And he had no idea whether it’s the right thing to do or not.

Kurt is staring at him and Blaine realizes he’s waiting for his answer. He wishes he had a better one. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Blaine thinks to himself. Because you broke my heart, and things will never be the same. Because even if you kept a little piece of it – even if I’ll never really have it all back – I can’t risk going down that road again. Blaine just shakes his head and turns to walk away.

“Blaine, are you kidding me?” Kurt grabs his arm and spins him around. “You can’t tell me there’s nothing going on between us. You can’t just walk away. We have to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” Blaine bites his lip and then stops himself, knowing it’s a tell that Kurt will recognize. “I can’t do this, Kurt.” I can’t go back there, he thinks. I might not make it back out this time. 

“But you said…” Kurt looks like he might cry, and Blaine feels his own throat closing up. 

“What? What did I say?” Oh god, Blaine thinks, he could have said anything last night, he was so wasted. What horribly embarrassing thing fell out of his mouth before the puke started coming?

Kurt holds his gaze, and takes a deep breath. “You said you missed me.”

Oh. Well, that was true, at least. “I did miss you,” Blaine says softly. “I really did. I still do, I think.” He feels the truth of this statement, even as he wishes he hadn’t said it. “But that doesn’t mean anything now.”

Kurt swallows hard. He looks like he’s about to lose it. “Why can’t it mean anything?”

Peggy is calling for Kurt to come inside, they need him for the next number, and Blaine’s head is spinning. “I can’t risk it again, Kurt. Not now. I just can’t.”

Blaine pulls his arm out of Kurt’s grip and walks away. This time, Kurt doesn’t stop him.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day is Sunday, and they don’t have rehearsal. Blaine sleeps in, then goes for a run with Julian. They exchange stories about their jobs – Blaine still can’t really believe that he gets to perform for a living, that he actually gets paid to be in a Broadway show – and Julian starts to gush about a new member of his orchestra, a girl almost as young as he is, who has curly hair and plays the flute and is apparently exactly his type. Blaine smiles as Julian talks, because Julian tends to crush hard, but it never goes anywhere. He’s terribly shy, especially when it comes to girls. 

“She’s half Korean, just like me, but her hair is practically blond, she says her mom is Swedish. She was telling the conductor, because we’re going to have a Korean guest soloist, and the conductor asked if anyone spoke Korean, and of course a dozen people raised their hands…”

They decide to grab a late lunch when they finish their run, and head for a group of food trucks in a nearby park. They’re too sweaty for anything else, but the early fall weather is just right for eating outside. Blaine looks longingly at the grilled cheese truck, but decides instead on a salad with falafel and tahini dressing. Julian gets a pulled pork sandwich, and grabs them a couple of water bottles. They settle on the grass, waving off the pigeons when they get too close.

“So, how’s your love life?” Julian asks this with a completely straight face, and Blaine wonders if Mona has prompted him, or if he really is that clueless. 

“Complicated.”

“Oh? Have you heard from Matthew?”

Huh, just clueless. “No, it’s not Matthew.” Blaine takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He could easily put Julian off, but sometimes he needs to talk to someone besides Mona. And while Julian may not be very good at relationships, he’s actually quite good at understanding Blaine. No one does insecurity quite as well as Julian.

“Kurt is in the cast of my show.”

Julian’s eyes go wide. “Oh, wow.”

“And two nights ago there was a party.”

“A party?” Julian puts his sandwich down and leans closer. 

“Yup. With seriously alcoholic pink punch, that for whatever reason I decided to drink.”

Julian nods. “Okay, that’s surprising.”

“Can you guess what happened next?”

“You made a fool out of yourself doing karaoke?”

Blaine grins. “No, I don’t need to drink to do that.”

“True.” Julian cocks his head. “So what happened?”

“I wound up back at Kurt’s place, on the sofa…”

“Oooh. Was there kissing?” Julian says the word _kissing_ like it’s a secret.

“Yeah. Right up until the moment when I puked.”

“On him?”

“No! God, Julian, that would be…” Blaine can’t even imagine it. Ugh.

“So, it could have been worse, then?” Julian says, amused at himself.

Blaine laughs. “Yeah, I guess it could have been worse. But this was pretty bad.”

Julian nods. “Well, it’s a shaky start. But not the end of the world.”

“It’s not a start.”

“Well, it could be. What does Kurt say?”

Blaine tilts his head back, searching the fluffy white clouds for a better answer than the one he has. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

“How come?”

“Because I don’t know how.”

Julian hums, realizing that they are approaching the heart of the problem. “It’s too much, isn’t it,” he says slowly. “Not what you expected. You didn’t think you’d have to confront all those old feelings again.”

Blaine nods. “I knew it would be a little weird, being back here. I mean, New York is full of old memories of the two of us together. Good ones and bad ones. Some really bad. But I didn’t think it was going to come up like this, you know?”

“You thought you were over him.”

Blaine presses his eyes together. “I really did. But now, seeing him… it just hurts. Every time I look at him, it hurts. And yet… he’s beautiful. Seeing him makes me happy, even though it hurts. He makes my heart happy.”

“You are ridiculously corny, you know.”

“I know.” Blaine picks a blade of grass, twirls it in his fingers, sighs. “For so long, Kurt was my whole life. We were going to be married. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Our relationship was everything. And then it broke.”

Julian bites his lip, considers his words carefully. “Maybe it doesn’t have to stay broken.”

Blaine feels a jolt of hope at this, and an accompanying stab of pain. “I’ve considered that,” he says, barely above a whisper. “But why does it feel so wrong for me to want it to be true?”

“Because you’re scared, Blaine.”

“But I shouldn’t be scared.”

“Why not? The guy ripped your heart out, and sent you into a breakdown that got you kicked out of school. I’d be scared too.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Blaine says, pulling his knees up to his chest and laying his head down, looking sideways at Julian. “It’s embarrassing that I’m such a sucker for this guy that I’d let him anywhere near me, let alone hook up with him. Why am I doing this to myself?”

“Good question. Why are you doing it?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Because I’m weak?”

Julian huffs out a laugh. “You are not weak, Blaine Anderson. You are a fierce competitor, a dedicated artist, and a relentlessly loyal friend.”

“Gee, thanks.” Blaine blushes despite himself. He knows the praise is genuine. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Well, maybe you have a weak spot for Kurt. You just have to figure out why.”

They gather the remains of their food and stand, stretching the kinks out of their backs, and head out of the park. Blaine lets Julian’s statement float around in his head as they walk back towards the subway. It doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. He knows exactly why he still has a weak spot for Kurt. He just isn’t ready to admit it.


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine was worried about what he was going to say when he saw Kurt the next day at rehearsal, but it turns out there was nothing to worry about. Monday they don’t rehearse any scenes together, and Tuesday Kurt isn’t at rehearsal at all. Blaine doesn’t even think twice about it, as his spare moments are caught up in emergency costume fittings when he puts on his princely attire and finds that it has been made in Mark’s size; it’s even funnier seeing Mark try to put on the leggings and waistcoat sized for Blaine. 

The next morning, however, when Kurt is still nowhere in sight, Blaine is beginning to get worried. He’s got his phone in his hand, trying to decide whether it would be appropriate for him to send Kurt a text, when he hears Peggy berating one of the actors who apparently made some snarky comment about Kurt’s absence. Clearly, the man hadn’t realized that Peggy was nearby. She’s in fine form, and isn’t letting the man off easily, moving closer and practically hissing at him.

“His father died, you cretin. Do you really begrudge him a few days off?”

He thinks that’s what he heard, but he can’t believe it. “Peggy?” Blaine approaches her, his heart starting to beat too fast in his chest. “Did, um, did you say that Kurt’s father died?”

She looks at him with pity, and Blaine has to force himself not to run away before she speaks, because he knows what the answer will be. “Yes, I’m sorry. Apparently it was very sudden. Kurt’s going to be away for a few days. The funeral is tomorrow, back in his home town.”

_No._ Blaine stumbles out into the hallway and around a corner, leaning against the wall until he can breathe again. _This can’t be true. Not Burt. It isn’t fair. Burt is supposed to be there, for Kurt (and for him, he had thought, way back when). And poor Kurt… why do these things keep happening to him?_

Blaine finds Deb at the first break, and makes his request. He tries not to let his voice reveal how much her acquiescence matters. 

Deb considers him carefully, taking off her glasses and wiping them with her shirt. Blaine sometimes wonders if she does that to actually clean her glasses or just to buy time. “I heard you and Kurt aren’t exactly strangers,” she says finally. 

“We were engaged,” Blaine says. He can’t say any more. He shouldn’t have to.

“So you knew his father well?”

The lump in his throat grows bigger. “I did.” 

“All right. You’re lucky I’ve heard you sing that song a hundred times already. Text Peggy when you figure out the details, I’ll let her know it’s okay.”

*****

He has arranged his flights so that he will only miss one full day of rehearsal, taking a late flight out tonight, and returning on Friday morning. Hopefully he’ll be back at work by lunchtime. 

In the flurry of preparation Blaine hasn’t had time to focus on the fact of Burt’s death. It isn’t until he is on the plane, settled next to the window with his messenger bag sitting on the empty seat next to him, that he lets himself feel it. Burt is gone. It’s awful, and unfair, and makes his stomach ache. And he knows what he’s feeling is nothing compared to what Kurt must be going through.

Blaine’s mom is at the airport to pick him up. He had told her he’d rent a car, not wanting her to have to make the trip so late at night, but she had just scoffed at him. She looks as picture perfect as ever, her tailored dress neatly in place and her long hair waving around her face as if she had just stepped away from a cocktail party, not spent an hour waiting around for Blaine’s delayed flight.

Pam pulls Blaine into a hug, and he sags against her for a minute, breathing in the scent of her perfume and letting her pat his messy hair. She likes it better without the gel, had nagged him relentlessly when he used to slick it down flat. 

On the ride home, Pam gives him the details of the funeral service, time and place and what happens afterwards. Blaine is relieved that she has figured this out for him. He hadn’t wanted to call Kurt, or Carole. It didn’t seem right to bother them. Apparently Pam just stopped by the shop and asked there. 

The next morning Blaine is up early, showered and dressed in his best dark suit. It’s a Tom Ford, a gift his father gave him to wear at his college graduation. Blaine almost laughs, thinking that Burt wouldn’t care if he wore sweats and a t-shirt to the service, but he’d appreciate Blaine getting dressed up for Kurt.

Pam straightens his tie at the breakfast table and offers to come with him. Blaine is glad for the offer, but he declines. He’s going to the funeral to be there for Kurt. His mom knows it, and she’s worried. She’s scared for him, for what this new connection with Kurt is going to do to him. Blaine gets the feeling that if Pam were able, she’d lock him in the house and never let him out. But she doesn’t; she never has. She lets him go.

The funeral service is fairly well attended, filling the small room. Blaine takes a seat near the back. He doesn’t see many familiar faces, although he does spot Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury up near the front. He keeps expecting to see Rachel, or Mercedes, or some people from NYADA, but he doesn’t. In fact, he’s not sure he sees anyone besides himself under the age of thirty. 

Blaine looks through the paper program. There’s a note at the bottom that the graveside service is for family only. His mom had told him as much yesterday. But people will be gathering at Kurt’s house later. He doesn’t know if he’ll go to that. He’s just going to have to play it by ear.

There’s a squeak of a door, and Kurt and Carole, along with two other people who must be Carole’s sister and brother in law, come in from a side room and sit down in the first row. Blaine can’t see Kurt’s face as he walks ramrod straight into the room, Carole’s hand on his arm.

As the service begins, and various speakers step up, Blaine observes the odd split between the guests. A dozen or so clearly know Burt from his work in Congress – one of the older men might even be a Senator, Blaine thinks. They are all wearing dark suits and shiny ties, many with American flag pins on their lapels. (Blaine does not let himself think about the rainbow pin he gave Burt, whether it’s on him now, or forgotten in a drawer somewhere.) Another group must be from Lima – men from the shop, the rotary club, Burt’s friends from town. They don’t look as put together as the politicians, and they don’t seem nearly as comfortable with the situation. Which is perfectly appropriate, Blaine thinks, when your friend is gone.

Blaine finds his handkerchief in his pocket, wipes his eyes, and tries to concentrate on the service, but he can’t stop thinking about Kurt. He’s not listed as a speaker on the program, which surprises him, but Burt’s bio clearly has Kurt’s touch, and the music that plays couldn’t have been chosen by anyone else. Blaine is sitting too far back to get a good look at him, but from what he can see, it looks as if Kurt is frozen, not moving a muscle.

Finally it’s over. Blaine wipes his eyes some more. He’s fully aware that his face probably looks like he just got punched. He’s not a pretty crier. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to prepare himself to talk to Kurt. Blaine waits until most of the guests have paid their respects, and walks shakily up towards where Kurt and Carole are standing. He’s not sure why he is so monumentally nervous right now – it’s not as if he hadn’t talked to Kurt, more or less, just a few days ago. 

Then he catches sight of Kurt, his profile as proud as ever, but paler than the finest porcelain could ever be, and he knows why his insides are in such turmoil. It is the knowledge that what Kurt has always feared has finally happened. Kurt’s grief is palpable, and it is horribly painful to see him like this.

When Blaine steps up in front of Kurt, Kurt’s reddened eyes come up slowly, and for a moment Blaine wonders if Kurt is seeing him at all. Then a wave of emotion flashes over Kurt’s face, and Kurt steps forward, leaning against him in a slow motion embrace. Blaine loops his arms around Kurt’s neck carefully, and Kurt pulls them tightly together.

“You’re here,” Kurt breathes out, not easing up on his hold. His head is pressed against Blaine’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. Your dad was a wonderful man.” It’s entirely inadequate, Blaine knows, but he’s not sure what could possibly suffice right now.

Kurt just clings for a moment, then swallows hard and pulls back, his eyes meeting Blaine’s. “He loved you.”

Blaine nods, his throat closing up again. “I loved him too,” he chokes out.

The people behind him in line are moving around them, greeting Carole. She glances at them, Blaine still holding Kurt close, and the look on her face speaks of devastating grief. Blaine doesn’t know if the two of them represent sons or lovers to her at this point, but she has lost both, and he nearly keens with the pain of it.

An usher approaches and says something discreetly to Carole. Apparently the car is here for them. Kurt reluctantly lets go of Blaine. “Come with us?”

“But it’s just for family.”

Kurt blinks at him, can’t seem to muster the will to say something like “you’re family too,” and inclines his head towards the door. Blaine follows him. He wasn’t sure of what his reception would be, here, and he doesn’t really understand why Kurt wants him around, especially given their last conversation. But this is why he came, and he’ll do whatever he can if it will help Kurt get through this.

There are only a handful of people at the graveside. The officiant says a few words, reads a passage from one of Burt’s favorite authors, and then Carole steps forward. Kurt has been sitting quietly next to him until this point, but when Carole starts talking about how Burt meant the world to her, he grabs Blaine’s hand where it is resting on his thigh. Blaine is crying harder now, and his face is hot and aching. He’s embarrassed to be so emotional when Kurt is so calm, but he can’t help it. He wishes he could just make this whole thing go away.

Then it’s Kurt’s turn to speak. He rises and moves closer, letting go of Blaine’s hand. His posture is tight, contained; he’s visibly struggling to hold himself together. He pulls a piece of paper out of an inside pocket, looks it over, and then puts it away. When he starts to speak, his voice is clear as he tells a story from his childhood that Blaine hasn’t heard before, an afternoon he and Burt spent together, watching an old movie and making cupcakes. It isn’t anything dramatic – not the story of when he came out, or the hard times he suffered in high school, or even his mother’s death. It’s just a memory of the constant, never ending, everyday love that Burt had for his son. 

Oddly enough, Blaine realizes, Kurt’s speech has calmed him. When Kurt returns to his seat, Blaine takes his hand this time, and Kurt’s mouth twitches in acknowledgement. 

Back at Kurt’s house, there are even more people than had been at the funeral. The guys from the shop seem to have been joined by a group of women who Blaine assumes must be their wives. The women have taken over the kitchen and are busily serving coffee and setting out plate after plate of food. They gather around Carole, offering her tasty tidbits like she’s a baby bird too young to leave the nest. 

Kurt circulates through the house, talking to his father’s friends. Blaine knows he must be forcing himself, running entirely on willpower at this point. Kurt hates small talk. Blaine sees him wince as a burly man pulls him into a hug, patting him roughly on the back. Even now he’s thinking of other people, of their pain, and not his own.

Blaine realizes he’s staring, and pulls his gaze away. It seems wrong to be admiring Kurt right now, the proud tilt of his head, the strong line of his shoulders, even as his sadness dulls the shine in his eyes.

Blaine makes polite conversation with some of the guests, pretty much on autopilot. After a while he goes into the kitchen, hoping to make himself useful. One of the women takes pity on him and asks him to gather up empty cups, so he makes a circuit of the house to pick up the trash. Mission completed, he looks around for Kurt. He’s not in the living room, and definitely wasn’t in the kitchen. Blaine thinks it is probably time for him to leave, but he isn’t about to do it without saying goodbye.

Blaine gets a new cup of coffee and goes outside on the back porch. It’s empty except for a tall guy smoking a cigarette. When he sees Blaine, he snuffs it out and throws it over the railing, on to the grass, and retreats inside the house. Rude, Blaine thinks. Not that he minds having a few minutes to himself.

He looks out over the yard, admiring the garden. It’s definitely Carole’s baby – not a neat, formal English garden like Kurt always wanted, but something more organic, different flowers planted here and there, whatever had struck her fancy year after year. 

The sliding door squeaks, and Blaine turns. 

“Hi,” Kurt says. They stare at each other for a moment, then Kurt speaks again. “I was going to go sit--” he inclines his head towards the porch swing which is not, despite its name, on their porch, but out in the yard. “Want to join me?”

Blaine leaves his coffee on the patio table and follows him. They’ve spent hours sitting and rocking in this swing – on hot summer nights, with the stars sparkling above them, and on frigid winter days when they had to clear off new fallen snow to make a space to sit. But that was years ago.

Now they sit with space between them, Kurt pushing at the ground with his expensive shoes to start the swing moving.

“My dad was disappointed in me.” Kurt says this flatly, as if it’s a fact.

“What?” That’s ridiculous, Blaine thinks. Burt was proud of Kurt, so very proud. It was one of his defining features. “That’s not true, how could you think-”

“I was on the phone with him one night, a few months after we broke up, and he says to me, all innocent-like, ‘so, how’s Blaine?’” 

Blaine feels his heart skip a beat. They aren’t supposed to be talking about this. Today isn’t supposed to be about him, about them. It’s supposed to be about Burt.

“I hadn’t said much to him about our break-up. I mean, I told him we broke up, but I didn’t give him any details. I hadn’t told him that you came home. I guess he saw you in town somewhere…”

“At the supermarket. With my mom.” Blaine remembers that day. It wasn’t a good one, and he had been so embarrassed for Burt to see him like that, such a failure, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with the hood up to cover his dirty hair, trailing along after his mother as she tried to get him to choose a cereal he might actually eat. He remembers his mom and Burt having a whispered conversation, Burt looking stern, and then Burt coming over and putting a hand on his shoulder, saying something encouraging that he could hardly hear over the blood rushing so loudly in his ears.

“When he asked about you, I had to admit that we hadn’t talked. He lit into me, going on about being responsible for the people in your life.” Kurt swallows hard. Blaine chances a glance at him, but he’s staring straight ahead, looking back at the house. “I was going to try harder after that, I really was. I was going to call you, insist that you talk to me. But then I heard you were doing better, and you got into Berklee. You were going to Boston, starting a new life. I felt like anything I did at that point would just be interfering.”

They sit in silence for a while. The swing slows to a stop, neither of them giving it another push.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Kurt says. “I hurt you so badly, you got sick… I didn’t think there was any way I could fix it. It was over. I figured you were better off without me. But now… being in this show with you, seeing your smile, your light, the way you find joy in the world… it just reminds me of what I knew all along, what I have known for years.”

“What?” Blaine can’t look at him. He can’t imagine what Kurt is going to say, he can’t let himself think it.

“I never should have let you go.”

Blaine feels Kurt’s finger touch his hand, just a touch of the fingertips, and he turns. Kurt is looking directly at him, his face open and unguarded. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I screwed everything up.”

Blaine considers this, letting the apology seep into him. He blinks, trying not to let the tears welling up in his eyes fall. “It takes two,” Blaine says finally.

“Do you mean that, or are you just being polite?”

There’s no easy answer to that, at least not one that Blaine can express right now. He knows that the problems they were having in the months leading up to their breakup were his fault as well. He knows he wasn’t perfect. But he still doesn’t believe any of his shortcomings could possibly have justified what Kurt did. He just broke it off, just let Blaine go, like he wasn’t ever worth anything at all. That’s the part that Blaine hadn’t been able to get past, in all his months of therapy. If Kurt had really loved him, if he had ever cared about him, how could he have treated him that way?

Maybe Blaine is just being polite. 

Carole comes out of the house and walks towards them, and Blaine sighs inwardly in relief as he realizes he has a way out of this conversation. Carole looks exhausted, and tells Kurt she’s going to lie down. He nods, and Blaine stands up, a hand on the arm of the swing to keep it from rocking back.

“I should go. My mom wants me home for dinner.” It sounds childish, but he hardly ever sees his mom anymore, and frankly he’s looking forward to sitting across the table from someone who hasn’t broken his heart. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take today.

Kurt opens his mouth as if to argue with him, but then closes it again with a nod. He pushes himself up from the swing and walks Blaine through the house and to the front door. It’s disturbingly familiar, and Blaine almost expects a quick make-out session on the porch before he gets into his car. But that was in a different life, when the limits on their time together were imposed by family and school obligations, and the knowledge that Burt was probably sitting in the kitchen, watching the clock to see how long it took Kurt to say goodbye, ready to tease him when he came back in. Now their time is their own, but they’ve chosen not to spend it together. Or, more accurately, Kurt chose; Blaine had no choice in the matter. _Or at least, he didn’t, until, possibly, now._

They stand there for a moment, trying to figure out how to say goodbye. Kurt is obviously holding back, trying not to overstep, and Blaine feels a wave of guilt. Despite his fears, he knows Kurt is trying to make things right, or at least make them better. He doesn’t want to leave with Kurt thinking he’s mad at him, whether he is or not. Especially not today. Life’s too short.

Fuck it, Blaine thinks, and leans in to hug Kurt. As he begins to pull back, Kurt tightens his grip, holding Blaine tight around his shoulders and digging his face into his neck. Kurt is trembling, shaking, and Blaine shifts them closer, runs his hand up and down Kurt’s back, mumbles a pointless “it’s okay” into his hair. He doesn’t know how long they stay wrapped around each other, but Kurt eventually relaxes a little and stops trembling. Blaine slowly steps back and lets his hand run down Kurt’s arm. He squeezes Kurt’s hand, gives him a little smile, and then lets go and heads towards his car.

“Blaine,” Kurt calls, his voice breaking, and Blaine turns. “When I get back to New York can I… do you want…” Kurt walks towards him, his posture more confident than his words as he wipes a tear from his cheek. “Can I call you, can we…?” he trails off, his request undefined.

“Yeah,” Blaine says, nodding. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what Kurt is asking for, exactly. Which is fair enough, he supposes, because he doesn’t know what he’s willing to give.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt is back for rehearsal on Monday. The swing actor who had been taking his place looks disappointed, and Blaine has to restrain himself from calling him out on it. Or tripping him with a casually stretched out foot as he walks by the table Blaine and Mona are sitting at during lunch.

They only have barely a week left before previews begin. Starting tomorrow, they get to rehearse at the theater. It doesn’t seem like enough time, but Blaine knows this is how it works. Most of the cast members are far more experienced than Blaine, and have been through this process multiple times, even if it still feels new to him.

After rehearsal Blaine sees Kurt packing up his bag, his back to the group as the cast chatters and flows around him. He declines Mark’s offer to join him and some of the others at a nearby diner, and pulls Mona aside for a quick consult before he approaches Kurt.

“Hey.” He leans against the wall, hands jammed into his pockets. “Mona and I are going for sushi. You should come with.”

Kurt looks at him, his face blank, and then at the group noisily heading towards the door. “You’re not going with them?”

Blaine shrugs. “Not tonight. I’m not really in the mood for a crowd.” Blaine watches Kurt. He’s looking down now, refastening the already closed latch on his bag, fiddling with the strap. He knows what Kurt’s going to say before he even starts saying it.

“Thanks for asking, but I should get home.”

Blaine touches his arm, gently, and waits for Kurt to look at him. “It’s just sushi. You need to eat something.” It’s better than going back to an empty apartment, Blaine wants to say. But he doesn’t have to.

“Okay.”

The meal goes more smoothly than Blaine thought it would. Mona is a welcome buffer, asking Kurt open ended questions about work that he’s done, and not pushing or looking offended when he trails off. They order an array of their favorite foods, and Kurt does, in fact, eat a reasonable amount. Blaine had chosen sushi purposefully – for whatever reason, it’s one of the things Kurt can stomach even when he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

He’s not sure he likes the fact that he’s feeling so protective towards Kurt, and he says as much to Mona when they get back to their place after dinner. 

“What, you’re questioning whether being kind to someone who just lost their father is a good thing? Who are you and what have you done with Blaine?” She’s playing with the remote, trying to find something interesting to watch on television. It’s not nearly late enough to go to bed, and they really don’t have anything else they have to be doing. 

But the thing is, he isn’t just being kind. “Kind” doesn’t begin to describe what he feels towards Kurt. It’s so much more. It’s the understanding of how badly Kurt is hurting right now, of how alone he feels, and Blaine’s _need_ to try to help. It’s the fact that what he really wants to do is go home with Kurt, curl up with him in his bed, wrap his arms around him, and promise him that everything is going to be okay. Let him talk about Burt, or not; let him cry, safe in Blaine’s arms. Tell him he’s strong, that he’s survived everything that life has thrown at him up until now, that he’ll get through this too. Reassure him that Blaine will be there with him, that they’ll get through it together.

But even if he could – even if it was his place, now – Blaine isn’t sure that his being there would make any difference. It hadn’t been enough, before, Kurt had made that clear. Blaine wasn’t enough. And he is afraid to offer too much of himself. It would just hurt too much if Kurt rejected him. Kurt may be strong, but Blaine – Blaine isn’t. Not when it comes to this.

For better or for worse, Blaine continues to keep an eye out for Kurt over the next few days. He can’t help it, and in lieu of further navel gazing, he decides to just go with his instincts. When he and Mona stop for breakfast on the way to rehearsal, he gets an extra egg sandwich for Kurt, and a container of fresh squeezed orange juice that Kurt never wanted to spend the money on but always loved to drink. He saves a seat for him at lunch, nagging him gently until he comes over to join them. He brings extra water bottles, protein bars, and bags of trail mix, offering Kurt his choice of snacks during breaks. 

Kurt likes it, Blaine can tell. While at first he met each of Blaine’s overtures with a look of bland confusion, he’s caught on, and now he almost smiles when Blaine asks him whether he wants an energy bar with chocolate or without. And he’s loosening up with everyone. He starts up conversations with Peggy, responds with more than two words when Mark talks to him. Blaine even catches him laughing with Serena, who plays Jack’s mother, as they’re trying yet again to get the prop cow to work right. Kurt’s not quite back to normal, not by a long shot, but he’s better. He’s surviving.

When most of the cast is released early one afternoon, Kurt catches up to Blaine as he finishes talking with the costume director. She’s not happy with the boots Blaine wore in the previous production, and is having him try on pair after pair until she is satisfied. Blaine doesn’t really think the last ones are period appropriate, but he knows better than to question her. “The only thing you say when you are given your costume is ‘thank you’” has been well drilled into him by now.

Kurt stands off to the side, holding back a laugh as Blaine attempts to thread the laces of the calf-high boots, teetering as he goes, and then finally he can’t take it anymore. “Sit down, let me do that,” Kurt says, and Blaine falls gratefully into a chair. Kurt pulls up a seat in front of him, and gestures for Blaine to put his foot in his lap. As he starts lacing the boots up far more effectively than Blaine was doing, biting his lip in concentration, Blaine can’t help but admire him. Kurt is as handsome as ever, his hair still perfect even after hours of rehearsal, his movements graceful even when just lacing up a boot. Blaine feels something stir inside him, and is suddenly struck by the intimacy of their position, Kurt’s hands on his leg, his foot in the soft suede boot up against Kurt’s stomach, the task at hand somehow a bit too familiar.

He pushes the thought away, but by the time Kurt is done lacing up both boots, he knows he’s in trouble.

“Want to grab a coffee when you’re done getting those checked?” Kurt says, the shy look on his face perhaps reflecting that the past few minutes were a bit odd for him as well.

“Sure.” He can’t really say no, he doesn’t have anywhere else to be, and Kurt knows it. He wishes Mona could come along, but she has already left. And besides, he can handle having coffee with Kurt. It doesn’t have to mean anything special. It’s just coffee.

_Famous last words,_ Blaine finds himself thinking again, as they sit next to each other at a small corner table, sipping at their hot drinks. Kurt has taken him to a new coffee place he discovered near his apartment. It’s tiny and dark and it smells fantastic, like coffee and cinnamon and dreams come true, if they came in coffee cups. And from the way Kurt is looking at him, this doesn’t feel like _just_ coffee. This feels like a date. 

Blaine tries to relax, to enjoy the moment for what it is, and not read anything into it. Kurt is talking about the cast, how amazing it is to work with Melissa and Steve and the other big Broadway names, how he had worked with Serena before but he was only in the chorus then, how he was learning so much from everyone. 

“And Serena’s playing my mom, but she’s only ten years or so older than me,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Although I think that’s about fifty in performing years, she’s got so much experience, sometimes I feel like such a kid around these people.”

“You don’t show it,” Blaine comments honestly, earning a shy smile from Kurt. At work, Kurt is poised and professional, never revealing a hint of nerves. “I think there are more than a few cast members who are thoroughly intimidated by you.”

Kurt laughs. “Serena isn’t, that’s for sure. Either that, or she’s just really getting into the role. I think she just stopped herself from wiping a crumb off my cheek the other day.” Kurt opens up the lid of his coffee cup and dips a piece of biscotti into it. “How’s your mom, by the way?” 

Blaine can tell Kurt was hoping to make the change of subject seem natural, and he almost pulls it off. “She’s good, thanks. A little lonely, still. But she’s got her work colleagues, and she started a book group last year that apparently only reads super raunchy fiction, so she’s making new friends. It was great to see her last week.” Blaine winces. “Of course, I don’t mean-”

“No, it’s okay,” Kurt interrupts him. “I want to talk about it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s weird having this huge thing happen that’s such a taboo subject. Everyone says ‘sorry for your loss,’ but they don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I get it,” Blaine says softly. “You can talk about it with me.”

“I know.” Kurt looks at him, his face serious. “Thank you for coming back to Lima for the funeral.”

“Of course, it was nothing-”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Kurt interrupts again. “It was a really big deal. I can’t even tell you how much it meant to me, to have you there. How much it means that after everything, you came. So, thank you.”

Blaine blinks hard, his throat closing up at Kurt’s words, and he nods. “You’re welcome.”

“No one else came,” Kurt says, so quietly Blaine almost doesn’t hear him. “Not even Rachel.”

Blaine had wondered about that, but wasn’t about to bring it up. But not surprisingly, Rachel’s absence had been noted by Kurt as well. “I haven’t talked to her in a long time,” Blaine volunteers.

“Didn’t you guys bond back in Lima, when you were both coaching show choirs?”

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “Not exactly. She had a really hard time trying to get the New Directions off the ground. Sue tormented her, and the superintendent couldn’t seem to stop it. Same kind of bullshit we always used to get from Sue, just that this time Rachel had to face it alone.”

“I thought you were helping her?”

Blaine looks curiously at Kurt. “Me?” Kurt clearly had no idea what had gone on after they broke up, did he? “Kurt, I was a basket case. It was all I could do to keep my head above water. By some miracle I got the job coaching the Warblers, but that took up all my energy. Some days I could barely make it through a two hour rehearsal. Rachel and I talked a few times, but she never asked for my help, that’s for sure.”

“Huh. From what she told me, I thought you guys were hanging out all the time.” Kurt grimaces. “Not that I was spying on you, or anything…”

“Of course not,” Blaine says, a little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. It somehow makes it better, that Kurt was at least thinking about him back then. And Rachel was apparently covering for him, at least a little bit.

“So if Rachel wasn’t telling me the whole truth… what did happen to the New Directions that year?”

“They couldn’t get enough kids to compete in Sectionals, and it kind of fizzled out after that. They only had about six kids, including my Warbler girl.”

“Your Warbler _girl_?”

Blaine smiled. “That’s a conversation for another time, I think.” He sits back in his chair and sighs. “I thought she might come back after the New Directions fell apart, but then half of Dalton burned down…” He looks up at Kurt. “Kind of a tough year for everyone.”

“You kept your Warblers going though, right? Or did Rachel fib about that part, too?”

“No, we kept going. Within a few weeks of the fire the alumni had found us another place to hold classes, and enough of the place was cleaned up and rebuilt by springtime for everyone to go back. It’s amazing what connections can do.” 

Blaine considers his next words, but decides to go for it, since Kurt had said he wanted to talk about it. “I was surprised not to see Rachel at the funeral. Are you guys not close anymore?”

“You could say that.” 

Kurt looks uncomfortable, and Blaine quickly speaks up. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. We’re definitely not, anymore – close, I mean. Rachel came back to New York and starred in that show with Jesse St. James...”

“I heard about that.”

“Well, we tried spending time together, but she was just so certain that she had done the right thing, quitting NYADA, not even going back when Madame Tibideaux offered her a space-”

“Wait, Madame Tibideaux offered her a space at NYADA? Even after she quit?” Now that really pissed Blaine off. No one from NYADA had so much as emailed him to see how he was doing.

“I know, right? Freaking Rachel, she gets everything handed to her…” Kurt looked up, making a face. “Sorry. It’s kind of a sore spot. I mean, I was slaving away at NYADA, trying to actually learn something, and Rachel gets cast just because Jesse had an in with the director.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know, that’s the way it seemed. I’m probably overstating things. But... the few times we had dinner – Monday nights only, of course – all she could talk about was how she made the right decision, how going to NYADA was a waste of time and money, and of course Jesse was totally supporting her choice, he didn’t go to college either. And Jesse kept trying to set me up with all these awful guys… I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Kurt sighed. “Probably the last time I saw Rachel was over a year ago, at a party one of Jesse’s friends gave. I knew the guy from a show, and Jesse thought we should spend more time together. I’m not sure if he meant me and Rachel, or me and his friend, but I caved and went to the party. But it was right after the Tony nominations came out, and Rachel didn’t get nominated, and all she could talk about was how unfair it was.”

Blaine presses his lips together.

“What? Might as well spit it out, you look like you’re going to hurt yourself,” Kurt says, grinning.

Blaine huffed out a somewhat bitter laugh. “Rachel spends a lot of time talking about how things are unfair. But she doesn’t realize how lucky she’s been. No matter how many bad decisions she makes, she still comes out ahead.”

“She didn’t get nominated for the Tony.”

“But she probably will this year. You have to admit, she was fantastic in ‘Jane Austen Sings.’”

“You saw her?”

“Yeah. Mona and I came down for a weekend with a few friends when we finished our last exams – kind of a graduation present to ourselves.”

“Rachel must have been glad to see you.”

Blaine shrugs. “I didn’t tell her we were coming. You’re not the only one that hasn’t spoken to her in a long time.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming, either,” Kurt says quietly.

“New York’s a big place. That wasn’t the first time I’ve been here since you and I broke up.” It may be the first time he’s referred so plainly to their break up – and the sky doesn’t fall. Blaine doesn’t know why it seems so weird to say it, it’s not as if Kurt isn’t fully aware of what happened.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kurt looks mildly annoyed, and it strikes Blaine the wrong way.

“Look, I spent a lot of time trying to get over you, Kurt. Trying to heal. Honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was see you again.” Blaine feels terrible as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I mean, that’s how it felt, for a long time.”

“You don’t feel that way anymore?” Kurt is holding himself very still.

Blaine hesitates, but he can’t dissemble now. He’s never really been able to with Kurt. “No. Not anymore.”


	7. Chapter 7

Mona wakes Blaine up the next morning, shoving at his shoulder until he stirs.

“Mmph, what is it? My alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

“How would you know? You left your phone in the bathroom,” Mona says, handing it to him. “You’re lucky I didn’t knock it into the shower.” Mona had soaked her own phone the week before, and even the rice rescue trick hadn’t saved it. “Someone’s already been texting you, you should probably check it.”

Blaine sits up, scrubs at his face, and taps the message button. “It’s from Kurt,” he says to Mona, his voice still rough from sleep. “He wants to meet for breakfast before rehearsal.”

Mona grins. She’s way too awake for Blaine’s liking. “Can we go to that crepe place? They’ve got ones with Nutella.”

Blaine stands up and stretches, then gives Mona a look. “Do you mind if I go by myself? It sounds like Kurt wants to talk about something personal.” 

Mona frowns. “What are you getting yourself into, Blaine? I thought you didn’t want to get caught up in Kurt again.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing, believe me. But…”

“But?”

“I don’t think I can help myself,” Blaine says, shaking his head.

“You still love him, don’t you?” she asks gently, as they start to fold the couch up and put away the pillows.

“I don’t know.” Blaine’s not completely sure, and even if he were, Mona’s not going to be the first person he tells. “Even if I did feel that way, I don’t know if I could be with him again. It seems impossible that we could make it work, after everything that has happened.”

Mona laughs. “You were definitely well cast,” she says, and starts singing his first song from the show, throwing her arms out and hamming it up. “Agony! Beyond power of speech. When the one thing you want is the only thing out of your reach.” 

Blaine laughs too, and indicates for her to go on with Mark’s part. Mona changes the pronouns and goes with it. “’High in his tower he sits by the hour maintaining his hair’ – that part sounds pretty accurate, actually” she comments, and then continues. “Blithe and becoming and frequently humming a lighthearted air – ah, ah ah, ah ah, ah ah, Agony! Far more painful than yours! For you know he would go with you, if there only were doors.”

“Agony!” they sing together, “Oh the torture they teach.”

“What’s as intriguing?” Mona sings.

“Or half so fatiguing-” Blaine chimes in, “As what’s out of reach?” He takes a deep breath and stops singing, smiling at Mona. “Thanks.”

“What, you’re not going to finish it? ‘You’re sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, as kind as you’re handsome,’” she goes on, singing Blaine’s next lines.

“But not heir to a throne,” he says, putting a finger to Mona’s lips. “And it’s not as if Cinderella’s Prince is actually such a great role model.”

Mona frowns. “I don’t know. Handsome and charming aren’t so bad.”

Blaine smiles sadly. “But the Prince runs away at the end. He doesn’t stay to fight the giant, he just saves himself.” Maybe Blaine is well cast, after all.

****  
Kurt had asked him to meet at the diner where Blaine and Mona had been buying breakfast on their way to rehearsals. It’s neither as big nor as famous as the Spotlight, but it has excellent coffee and a broader variety of egg sandwiches than any place he’s ever been. The one with grilled artichoke and pesto is fantastic. Kurt is already seated at a booth when Blaine arrives, and smiles broadly at him when he sits down.

“I ordered you a coffee. Hazelnut. Is that okay?” Kurt seems full of nervous energy, and Blaine thinks that maybe he should have gotten himself a decaf.

“Sure, that’s great.” 

The waitress brings their menus, and Blaine sneaks a glance at Kurt as he’s reading it – or pretending to read it. There is definitely something going on.

Kurt looks up, not fazed by the odd look Blaine knows he must be giving him. “Thanks for meeting me. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, Mona did that. But it’s okay, my alarm would have gone off any minute anyway.”

“I like Mona,” Kurt comments. “Were the two of you roommates at school?”

“No. I was actually living with my boyfriend this summer.”

“Oh, um, huh.” 

This is obviously not what Kurt was expecting him to say, and Blaine figures he’d better clear it up quickly. “We broke up a few weeks before I came down here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t very serious, anyway.” Blaine takes a sip of the coffee the waitress has conveniently just placed on the table. The warmth of it flows through him, but it’s still bitter without any sugar. “I haven’t had much luck with love.”

“That can’t be true,” Kurt says.

Blaine shrugs. “Survey says yes.”

Their food comes a few minutes later, and they switch to lighter topics, laughing together over some gossip Kurt has heard about the tech crew. Apparently there’s a bit of a love triangle going on. Kurt starts describing the complicated social web woven by the techies, and Blaine lets himself drift off a bit, listening to the sound of Kurt’s voice as he gets caught up in his story.

There’s a pause, and Blaine pulls himself out of his daze. Kurt has gone quiet, and is gazing fondly at him. It’s a little unnerving.

“I like your glasses.” Kurt reaches out a hand, touches the dark frames Blaine is wearing. 

Blaine immediately blushes. “Thanks.” 

“You never used to wear them. They look good on you.”

It’s true, Blaine had gone through ridiculous acrobatics to make sure Kurt had never seen him in glasses when they were together, keeping his contacts in at all hours of the day and night. But with the way Kurt is looking at him now, he’s really not sure why anymore.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Yeah?” Kurt looks hopeful. But then he seems to remember something, and his face falls. “I have a confession to make.” Kurt’s tone is still light, but he picks up a sugar packet and begins to fiddle with it, and Blaine starts to get worried.

“A confession? Is that why you wanted to meet this morning?”

Kurt nods, taking another sugar packet out of the holder and stacking it precisely on top of the first one, then looking up at Blaine. “Hear me out, okay? I should have said something sooner, but… please don’t get mad?”

_Well, since you’re probably not going to call off the wedding again, it can hardly be as bad as last time,_ Blaine thinks wryly to himself. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

Kurt takes a deep breath, and meets Blaine’s eyes. “I didn’t decide to go out for _Into the Woods_ because the director is amazing, or because Jack’s a great role, although both of those things are true. I was actually up for a part in a different show, but then told them I wasn’t interested so I could audition for _Woods._ ”

That’s odd. “Why?”

“Because I found out you were in it.” Kurt holds his gaze steadily, his blue eyes bright.

Blaine can’t find words, and he’s not sure if he’s angry at Kurt or just terrified.

“I wasn’t trying to be a stalker or anything. The truth is I wanted to have an excuse to spend time with you.”

Kurt’s words echo his own from so many years ago, and Blaine has to appreciate the irony. Back then, they were newly in love, and singing a breakup song together; now, Blaine is haunted by their own breakup, and Kurt wants to sing love songs to him. 

“You really gave up another part?”

Kurt shrugs. “An opportunity for one.” He still looks nervous, waiting to see what Blaine’s reaction will be. 

“What was it?”

Kurt mumbles something into his hand, and Blaine shoots him a look. “Come again?”

Kurt picks up his head. “The emcee, in Cabaret,” he says more clearly.

“Kurt!” It’s the part of a lifetime, and Kurt would have been perfect for it. Beyond perfect. “You gave up a chance at that part for… I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me.” Kurt sits up straighter, and holds Blaine’s gaze. “The part was a long shot anyway. And nothing good comes without risk. I decided that this opportunity – to connect with you again -- would be more than worth it.”

_Into the woods you go again, you have to every now and then. Into the woods, no telling when, be ready for the journey._ Blaine hears the words of the finale ringing in his ears. Could it be true – did Kurt really take this risk, just for a chance to see him again? What if it hadn’t worked – what if Blaine had run screaming from the room, as he had been so tempted to do?

Blaine remembers the shock of that morning, the day of their first rehearsal, hearing Kurt’s voice ring out from the other end of the table. “Why didn’t you tell me? Give me a heads up at least?” 

Kurt presses his lips together, but doesn’t look away. “Because I was afraid you’d quit the show,” he says, his voice full of pain.

Kurt knows, Blaine realizes, how much Blaine didn’t want to see Kurt again. He knows Blaine might have even given up a role on Broadway to avoid being in the cast with him, as crazy as that would have been. And it’s killing him.

Blaine nods. “I might have, although that would have been really stupid.” He makes himself laugh, trying to calm his nerves, although it comes out too rough. 

“Oh?”

Blaine breathes through his fear, and stretches out a hand to cover Kurt’s where it rests on top of the sugar packets. It feels natural, the sense of déjà vu almost overwhelming. “Because then we wouldn’t have had the chance to work together, and maybe…” he screws his eyes shut, “maybe fix some of this.” He feels a bit like he’s drowning, struggling to swim through the pain. But then he opens his eyes, and the look Kurt is giving him is more than enough motivation to propel him to the surface.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s the first night of previews, and the cast is strung as tight as a bow. Blaine doesn’t know if this is how it always is, if this is normal, he’s never been in a show on Broadway before. But he feels like he’s going to shake right out of his skin, and nothing is helping. 

Kurt sticks his head into the dressing room Blaine shares with Mark and two other guys. He looks calm and composed as he quickly mouths “break a leg” and heads down the hall to makeup, but Blaine can tell that he’s nervous, too. People get very attached to Sondheim, they want to see it done the way they remember it, they don’t necessarily take kindly to variations on the theme. After tonight, even though it isn’t the official opening, word of mouth will start to spread. Tonight’s performance matters quite a lot.

Blaine’s mom had wanted to come, but Blaine had begged her to wait at least a few more weeks, until the show was polished. But a handful of his friends from Berklee will be in the audience, and for that, Blaine is grateful. Jon and Julian, Anjali and Lucy are his family, too. They’ve been there through some of his worst moments, and some of the best. Hopefully this will be one of the latter, not the former. 

The moments before curtain tick away, as time inevitably does, and suddenly everything starts to blur. The rhythm of the show catches him up and pulls him along, and then he is on stage, singing his cheeky song with Mark, flinging his arms wide as they sing of how very hard it is to be a royal prince who can’t immediately have the object of his affections.

Intermission comes and goes in a flurry of costume changes and makeup touchups, and then the second act begins. It’s the surprisingly dark sequel to the first act’s clever fairy tale, where everyone has gotten what they wished for, but no one is satisfied. Blaine’s scene with Melissa goes off well. He’s not in the next few scenes, where the characters argue about whether to give in to the giantess’s demand for a life in exchange for the giant they killed, and the death toll rises as the characters turn on each other and lives are taken without purpose – the Narrator sacrificed by the Witch, Jack’s mother struck by the steward, Rapunzel and the Baker’s Wife both trampled by the giantess. The Baker tells Jack that his mother is dead, and he and Cinderella sing “No One is Alone” with Jack and Little Red.

The song is hauntingly beautiful, and Blaine can’t help but remember singing it with Kurt, Sam and Rachel years ago. Blaine moves into a spot in the wings where he can see the action on stage more clearly. Kurt’s expression floors him – as Jack, newly orphaned, the pain on his face is heartbreaking. His entire body is quivering with grief. It is apparent in every movement, in every graceful step and stutter. 

Blaine realizes he hasn’t seen Kurt run this scene since before his father’s death. How is it possible that Kurt can stand on stage and open up his very soul to the audience, so freshly faced with loss himself, without dissolving completely? 

The audience is clapping and the actors dash into the wings, only moments left now before the final number. Blaine catches Kurt by the arm and Kurt looks at him, stares blind for a moment as Blaine gently wipes a tear off his cheek with a fingertip. Blaine aches with what he wishes he could say to him. _You’re not alone. I’m here. Let me in._ There’s no time for more, the music rolls on and soon they are all onstage. 

The Baker’s Wife sings “Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood. Do not let it grieve you, no one leaves for good. You are not alone. No one is alone.”

The Witch warns them all, “Careful the things you say, children will listen. Careful the things you do, children will see.” The company joins in, singing together, “Careful the wish you make, wishes are children. Careful the path you take, wishes come true. Not free.” Then they are back to the “Into the Woods” theme, bringing it around to the moral of the story. Soon enough they all have to go back into the woods (“Into the woods you go again, you have to every now and then”) but this time it is different. 

_The way is dark,_  
The light is dim,  
But now there's you, me, her, and him.  
The chances look small,  
The choices look grim,  
But everything you learn there  
Will help when you return there. 

After the show, they all head to Brooklyn for the cast party. It’s being held in one of the producer’s homes, which reminds Blaine a little bit of Kurt and Rachel’s old Bushwick loft, but with a decorating budget about twenty times higher. His Berklee friends come along, excited to be a part of it. It’s good to have them there. They can’t say enough nice things about his performance, and Mona’s, too, and they stick close and hug and pet them both as they come down from the adrenaline rush of it all. 

The open floor plan space is filled to bursting with people, most of whom Blaine has never met. After a little while exchanging congratulations with his castmates, he’s happy to retreat into a corner with Jon and Julian, as the girls find some new friends on the dance floor. Jon goes off to get them fresh drinks – beer for Jon and Julian, and soda for Blaine – and Julian spies a few chairs that have just been vacated and pulls Blaine over to sit.

“So, that’s Kurt. He’s a good singer.”

Blaine laughs. “You’re very subtle.” 

Julian shrugs. He’s had quite a few drinks tonight, though, and it doesn’t come off as cool as he probably thinks it does. It’s kind of adorable. “Just making conversation.”

“Uh huh.” Blaine glances over towards Kurt, letting himself watch for a moment as the woman Kurt is talking with nods emphatically at whatever witty comment he is likely making. It’s not as if Blaine hasn’t been aware of Kurt all night, observing as he moved from group to group, his light voice reaching across the room to Blaine’s ears whenever there was a pause in the music. Blaine is practically aching with the desire to be close to him, but he hasn’t been able to make himself leave the safe cocoon of his friends.

“I’m just saying, I see the attraction,” Julian says. “He’s very… tall?”

“Please, stop,” Blaine says, hiding his face in his hands. Watching Julian look at Kurt like he’s studying a math problem is far too awkward. Especially when Kurt is standing like that, one hip jutted out to the side, zebra print pants painted on so tight Blaine wonders if he has any circulation left in his legs.

“What? I’m trying to help.”

I don’t need your help to know Kurt is gorgeous, Blaine thinks to himself. “And I appreciate that, I do. Why don’t you tell me about your favorite viola player?” Talking about Julian’s work crush was far easier than explaining what was going on between him and Kurt, especially in Julian’s current condition. 

Julian certainly doesn’t seem to mind the change in subject, and is happily going on about how he is thinking about asking the woman in question out for coffee (“or maybe ice cream? Gelato? Waffles?”) when Mona crashes down onto Blaine’s lap.

“Hey, cutie, how you holding up?” she whispers in his ear, wrapping her warm arms around his neck to keep herself steady.

Why does everything think I’m in trouble here? Blaine wonders. Probably because I am. He sighs. “I’m fine, Mona. Having fun?”

“Fine, deflect if you want to,” she mutters, punching him gently in the shoulder. “I’m having an awesome time. And you?”

Blaine smiles. “I’m good, really,” he repeats.

The music changes to something infectious and Mona slides easily off Blaine’s lap, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. “You’ll be even better if you come dance with us.”

One song turns into another, and Blaine lets himself go, dancing with his friends and whoever else joins their happy, sweaty group. He’s able to push the thought of Kurt away for a little while and just have fun, trading hip checks with Lucy and laughing out loud at Jon’s attempt at body rolls. When the DJ takes a break Mona announces that’s she got to find a restroom, and Lucy and Anjali trail after her. Jon has disappeared already, so Blaine decides it’s a good time to find something to drink. The area where the bar was set up is a chaotic mess, so he goes into the kitchen, figuring he’ll just get some water from the tap.

He can’t quite reach the shelf where a new package of plastic cups is perched. Finally he’s got it between his fingers, but loses his balance when he comes back down, bumping into the person who has come up behind him.

“Hey, you okay?”

Of course, the person now holding his arm and gazing with amusement into his eyes is Kurt. Of course.

Blaine quickly rights himself, running his fingers through his dishelved hair, only his sweat keeping his curls from frizzing out of control. He’s not at his best, for sure, but the way Kurt is looking at him indicates that maybe he doesn’t really mind.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kurt just gazes back at Blaine. “Your friends seem nice. They’re the group from Berklee, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You and Mona are lucky to have them.” There’s a hint of sadness there, and Blaine is surprised again at how firmly Kurt seems to have split apart from Rachel and all the other McKinley alums. He knows how fortunate he is to have found a family of friends at Berklee, the last place he expected to find them.

“We really are lucky.” Blaine pauses, scanning the crowd in the living room for the top of Jon’s head. He’s always the easiest to spot. “Do you want to meet them?”

Kurt shrugs, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter. “Maybe later.”

Blaine can feel his heartbeat speeding up. The weight of Kurt’s gaze on him is almost too much to take. He looks at Kurt’s lips, then back up to his eyes, and knows what is about to happen a second before it does.

Kurt’s lips are as soft as he remembers. The kiss is gentle, loving, just a brush and a press and then Kurt is pulling back, his whole face a question and a plea.

Blaine doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do. 

“This okay?” Kurt asks softly.

“Yeah, um, I…” Blaine swallows hard, trying to force his brain into compliance, gives a little embarrassed laugh. “This isn’t what I imagined when I pictured my opening night on Broadway.” 

Kurt smiles, runs a hand up and down Blaine’s arm. “Well, every opening night is different. I’ve never had one quite like this, either.”

A twinge of resentment bubbles up inside him, as Blaine remembers that this isn’t Kurt’s first Broadway rodeo. Kurt has been here all these years, auditions as convenient as after-school yoga classes, while Blaine was hundreds of miles away in Boston, rejected by New York’s finest. 

Kurt leans in towards Blaine again, and suddenly what Blaine wanted more than anything just a moment ago now seems wrong. Blaine flinches back, and Kurt freezes. Kurt looks stunned, and then his posture changes, stiffens, as he steps back.

“You aren’t playing fair,” Kurt says, his voice thin and hard.

When Blaine meets Kurt’s eyes, his stomach drops. Kurt is growing angry, in that fierce and sudden way he gets like a thunderstorm on a summer day. 

“You haven’t forgiven me, have you?”

“What? Not forgiven you? No, of course…” Blaine babbles, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You haven’t. I tried to convince myself that you had, to believe you, but you haven’t. Stop pretending,” Kurt snaps. “Why are you even doing this?”

Blaine just stares blankly at him. “Doing what?” His legs feel weak. He can barely breathe in the face of Kurt’s anger.

“Comforting me, caring about me, taunting me, if you won’t forgive me?”

“I have forgiven you,” he tries again, desperate to calm Kurt down.

“You haven’t. You’re just playing a role. The wronged lover turned into the supportive friend, who only wants to get physical when he’s drunk.”

“I am not drunk – I haven’t had a single drink-” Blaine protests.

“Whatever. But you’re not really here. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Kurt’s eyes are flashing furiously. “I can’t do this, Blaine.”

Kurt turns and starts to walk away, and Blaine reaches out to grab him. “Kurt, wait…” Please, please, why can’t he say anything useful right now?

Kurt just shakes his hand off, his face tight. “I thought you wanted to try to fix this.”

“I do, I just…”

Kurt shakes his head. Blaine can see tears welling in his eyes, and his heart is breaking for Kurt, for himself, for this mess they can’t seem to get out of. “Let me know if you figure yourself out.”


	9. Chapter 9

Mona finds Blaine out in the hallway, sitting on the floor around the corner from the party. He’s got a bottle of beer in his hands. It’s warm now. He never opened it, anyway. 

“Even you need more than one beer for this kind of thing, right?”

Blaine hands it to her. “I’m not exactly thinking clearly right now.”

She scoots closer to him, puts her arm around his shoulders. “Sure you are. Or you would have finished that beer already and moved on to a few more.”

Blaine lays his head on her shoulder. She still smells good, like her newest perfume, some kind of mix of vanilla and citrus that makes him think of summertime. Cupcakes in summertime, with lemonade. Like a picnic he once made for Kurt. Like a picnic he’d make again for Kurt, if he can get him to talk to him again.

Mona turns and catches Blaine’s eyes, which is quite a task given how firmly he has affixed them to his crossed legs. “You’re quite good at moping even without the help of alcohol, aren’t you?”

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “It’s as if you don’t know me at all.”

“Come on, cutie. It’s late, and we’ve got a show to do tomorrow.”

The reality of this statement crashes down on Blaine like a bucket of cold water. Another show tomorrow, and the next day, and so many days after that… all with Kurt. Who will no doubt be professional about it, cool and contained and completely in control. It’s Kurt’s fault, anyway, that they are in this together in the first place, he admitted as much. Somehow, however, this doesn’t make it any better.

*****  
The next morning Blaine wakes up early and goes for a run. He doesn’t push too hard, but he lets himself find a rhythm where he can almost zone out, letting thoughts flow through his mind gently, without pressure or expectation. It’s almost like meditation when he does it right, and this morning, thankfully, it seems to be working.

Back in Mona’s apartment he takes a quick shower, puts on some jeans and a t-shirt, and gets to work. He finds what he was looking for in the storage area in the building’s basement, drags it upstairs, and sits it carefully on the coffee table.

In the box are notebooks he has saved for years, the journals he kept during therapy the semester he spent back in Lima, and for the next year or so after that in Boston. They document his struggle with depression and his overwhelming sense of rejection, having been cut off by Kurt and soon after by NYADA. How the feeling of worthlessness had seeped into his bones and drained his self-confidence. 

But they also tell the story of his recovery. Success coaching the Warblers, getting into Berklee, and thriving on a new campus. Making new friends and finding new opportunities. No epic romances distracted him from his goals; he focused on healing himself, learning all that he could, and preparing for his career. He learned to live without Kurt. He told himself that he didn’t need that kind of partner, that it would only lead to pain.

Blaine opens the box and finds the most recent journal, from just over a year ago. He thumbs through the entries, seeing with fresh eyes his reluctance to really be himself with any of the boys he had dated. His righteous insistence that it was better this way is clear on the page.

Was he wrong all along? Was he wrong to look out for himself, to keep himself safe, even if it meant not having someone to love? He doesn’t think so. But then again, he hardly recognizes the person who wrote these words. He’s different now. He needs a different approach. 

_Everything you learn there  
Will help when you return there._

*****  
Mona sleeps late, doesn’t come out into the living room until almost lunchtime. Blaine is making grilled cheese with tomato and avocado. A salad is already sitting on the small kitchen table.

“Mmm, smells good.” She sidles up next to Blaine, looking at the sandwiches grilling appreciatively. “You can’t possibly be human. How are you so functional this morning?”

Blaine just gives her a little smile, as she answers her own question. “Didn’t drink margaritas all night long, I know, I know.”

“There’s lemonade,” Blaine says, inclining his head towards the fridge. Kurt isn’t the only person in the world he can make lemonade for, he thinks to himself. Mona loves his lemonade.

“You are entirely too good to me,” Mona says, groaning as Blaine lifts a sandwich with a spatula and carefully slides it on to her plate. “But…”

“But what?” Blaine takes the second sandwich for himself and sits down next to her. He knows what’s coming.

“Any further thoughts about the Kurt situation?”

“Quite a few, as a matter of fact.”

“Care to share?”

Blaine takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Mona is his closest friend, but he’s not sure he’s ready to talk yet. There are some things he needs to straighten out in his own mind first. “Maybe later?”

She gives him a knowing look. He sits up straighter under her gaze. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Mona glances around the apartment, taking in the well put together meal, Blaine’s neat clothes, his slightly-gelled but not entirely flattened down hair. “You do seem remarkably okay…” Her gaze falls on the box Blaine had brought up from the basement, now taped up with an overnight mail sticker glued to the top. “What’s that?”

“Just some stuff I’m sending back home. I don’t need to carry it around anymore.”

*****  
The show that night goes well enough. Blaine isn’t as nervous as he was the night before. Somehow he’s gained some perspective on the whole thing. Shows come and go. If this one tanks, there will certainly be another to take its place, with or without him in it. People come and go too, but they can’t be replaced quite so easily.

He’s scared to see Kurt, but he knows he can’t avoid him. In his dressing room before the show starts, he plays with his phone, looking at the text he had drafted earlier but had been too chicken to send. Finally he grits his teeth and presses, hoping he had said the right thing, or at least something close to it.

_I’m glad you called me on my behavior. You were right, I wasn’t playing fair. But I need some time to think. Hope that’s okay._

He doesn’t get a text back right away, and soon it is time for curtain. Kurt still hasn’t replied. But when he passes him in the hallway after the first scene, Kurt catches his eye. He gives him a wary look, strange on innocent Jack’s face, and mouths “it’s okay.”

Blaine wishes he could have said something more reassuring to Kurt, but this is important, and he owes it to Kurt and to himself to get it right. He hasn’t been playing fair. 

The next day Blaine wakes up early again, but he doesn’t go for a run. Instead he takes the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty. He texts Kurt a picture as the boat approaches Liberty Island. A few hours later Kurt texts him back a picture of the High Line, Kurt’s white ankle boots clearly visible at the bottom of the photo. A sense of relief floods through him. Blaine used to believe in fate, in soulmates. In Kurt. He’s not sure he ever stopped.

That night, before the show begins, Blaine sets a wrapped bouquet of flowers on the floor in the corner of his dressing room. Mark gives him a questioning look but Blaine doesn’t respond, and soon enough they are all caught up in the performance. It’s better than the second night, but not quite as emotionally powerful as the first. Blaine stays in his dressing room during intermission, not wanting to run into Kurt until he’s ready. He’s pretty impressed with his ability to compartmentalize the performance from the conversation he wants to have with Kurt; it helps that he’s done this show so many times. He gives a silent apology to Deb before the second act, promising that he’ll have his head more fully in the game next time. He just needs to get through today.

After the finale Blaine changes quickly into jeans and a nicely fitted black button down shirt. He fiddles with the collar, fleetingly wishing for the comfort of a tight bow tie around his neck, but those days are long past. In the end he leaves the top buttons undone. He unwraps the flowers, noting that they seem to have survived the past few hours fairly well, and squares his shoulders. It’s time.

The actor that shares Kurt’s dressing room is just leaving as Blaine approaches, and he gives Blaine a smile as he goes by, his glance lighting on the flowers. “Break a leg,” he whispers to Blaine. Blaine’s not sure how much the cast knows about what’s going on, but after Blaine went to Burt’s funeral, they know it’s something. Blaine just nods, breathing deeply as he knocks on the open door.

“Come in.”

Kurt has his back to Blaine, but spots him in the mirror as he enters the room. He’s still got on the silky light blue robe he wears when he’s changing clothes. Blaine wants to kick himself for not texting first, for assuming he could just show up.

But Kurt’s eyes are on the flowers in Blaine’s hands, so Blaine holds them out. “These are for you.”

“How did you find these this time of year?” Kurt breathes out, a look of wonderment on his face. “They’re beautiful. White tulips, for-”

“Forgiveness,” Blaine says shakily. His heart is pounding so hard he hopes Kurt can actually hear his voice over it. “I need to ask you to forgive me.”

“Forgive _you_?”

“I think I…” he sucks in a breath, trying hard to keep his composure. “I got so used to thinking of myself as the injured party in this,” he waves a hand between them, not knowing what to call it. “I forgot to let it go. And I lost sight of my part in everything that led up to our breakup. Even though we’ve been getting closer, even though you made your feelings clear, even though I thought I was giving us another chance…I was still mad at you. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Blaine…” Kurt steps closer, his eyes bright. It’s almost too much.

Blaine presses his eyes shut, and feels Kurt’s hand alight gently on his arm. 

“It’s okay. I understand.” Kurt moves his hand on his arm, a reassuring presence as Blaine tries to regain his balance. “Honestly, I can see myself doing the same thing.”

“Really?” Because it’s hard to believe anyone else could feel as confused as Blaine does right now. Even after thinking about it almost nonstop for the past two days, he doesn’t understand why he missed this critical facet of his behavior over the past few weeks. 

“Really.” Kurt frowns, shakes his head. “I’m not great at letting go of things. Especially not when someone I love has hurt me.”

Blaine wonders if he’s talking about when Blaine cheated on him. He is pretty sure Kurt hadn’t forgiven him for that, no matter what he had said. Even after their engagement, even after they moved in together in New York – twice – the shadow of Blaine’s mistake had hung over them. It’s almost a relief to have it acknowledged.

“I know how badly I hurt you,” Kurt says softly. “I do.”

All Blaine can do is nod again. It’s as if Ursula has stolen his voice. He only hopes she gives it back before his next performance, or he’s going to be out of a job.

Kurt bites his lip, staring at Blaine staring back at him. “Why don’t you sit down and let me get changed, and we’ll go get coffee or something?”

Blaine nods again. Coffee is good. He can do coffee.

Kurt pulls out a vase from under the counter and fills it with water, carefully setting the tulips in it. “These really are lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he stutters out. Blaine turns away, trying not to look at Kurt as he pulls on blue and white paisley pants and a soft looking long sleeved lavender shirt. It’s hard – there are so many mirrors and it’s not a very big room. Kurt catches him twisting around as he’s fastening his belt and laughs softly, sadly.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m almost done.”

They exit the theater one after another. There isn’t a huge crowd by the stage door, at least not for them, but they sign autographs anyway. Blaine feels like every fan can see right through him. He keeps expecting someone to ask him what’s wrong, why does he look like he’s about to faint, but it doesn’t happen. 

Finally they’ve extracted themselves, and set off down the block. Without really talking about it they get on the subway and head downtown. There aren’t many good coffee shops near the theater, and Blaine is uneasy enough that he’d rather be close to home if this doesn’t go well. He wonders if Kurt feels the same.

Kurt comes to a stop in front of a place not far from his apartment. “How’s this?” 

Blaine looks through the window. It’s late, and the staff is standing around chatting with each other. One person is wiping tables. “Maybe we should go to your place?” 

Kurt steps closer to Blaine, looking at him intently. “Are you sure?” He places his hand on Blaine’s arm, gently, as if he’s afraid to startle him. “Blaine, you’re trembling.”

Blaine hadn’t noticed. He’s finding it hard to notice much of anything except Kurt. But the world does seem a little unfocused at the moment.

“Come on, the sign says they’re open for another hour. We’re going inside.” Kurt leads him to a table and goes to the counter to get their drinks. Blaine sends a quick text to Mona, letting her know where he is. Kurt returns a few minutes later with two large mugs of hot chocolate. 

“Hope this is okay,” he says, placing the mugs on the table.

Blaine takes a careful sip, then another. “It’s perfect, thank you.” The warmth and the sugar help clear his mind. Blaine sits up straighter, smoothing his palms along his thighs. He tries not to think about whether his plain outfit looks good on him, whether it hides the soft swell of a belly he can never really get rid of no matter how many miles he runs. Kurt always said he looked handsome anyway. He feels a bizarre pang of loss for that Kurt, old Kurt, even with Kurt sitting right in front of him.

Kurt looks nervous, too. Neither of them say anything. It’s not a comfortable silence. Finally Kurt breaks it.

“When I got your text today, with the picture of the Statue of Liberty…” he pauses, takes a sugar packet out of the container on the table, turns it in his hands. “I couldn’t help hoping that it meant something good.” Kurt’s eyes, blue-gray in the dim light, rise to meet Blaine’s. “Once upon a time, we were able to talk about things.”

“We tried, anyway,” Blaine says, thinking back to that day at the loft years ago, when they had decided Blaine should move out. It had hurt, then, despite the positive spin they had put on it for their friends. It had hurt a lot. “I’m not sure we really did a good job of it.”

Kurt nods. “I guess if we had, we wouldn’t have broken up.” He sucks in a breath, corrects himself. “If I had. It was my fault, that last time. Maybe not all the stuff that led up to it, but I know I avoided you afterwards. I didn’t let you talk about it. I made you wait too long… and then when I realized it, it was too late. You had a new life. You were gone.”

Blaine looks down. He starts to lift his mug to take a sip, but his hands are shaking too hard and he has to put the drink back down on the table. He forces himself to look back up at Kurt. “What happened afterwards was not your fault, Kurt. My being depressed, NYADA… that wasn’t your fault.”

“No?” Kurt’s voice is small. “Aren’t I ‘that asshole that broke your heart and ruined your life?’”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “Who said that?”

“The tall one?” Kurt holds his hand above his head, indicating.

“Jon,” Blaine sighs out. “What, exactly, did he say to you?”

Kurt shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. It was along the lines of ‘don’t you dare do that again, we love Blaine, he doesn’t deserve any more of your shit.’ He had clearly had a few too many drinks, not that he might not have said it sober, too.” Kurt takes another sugar packet and adds it to his stack. “I’m sure you’ve thought the same thing.”

Blaine closes his eyes. This is the heart of the problem. This is what he has been turning over and over in his mind since that night at the cast party. “I did, sometimes. Even though I knew it wasn’t true. You didn’t do anything unusual; couples break up all the time. How I reacted is on me, not on you. It was just easier to be mad at you than to accept responsibility for all my failures myself. I was wrong.” 

Blaine opens his eyes, finds Kurt’s gaze locked on to his. He wants to get up, throw himself at Kurt’s feet, bury his face in his chest and sob. But they’re in a coffee shop, and the words haven’t been said yet. He has to actually say the words.

Blaine holds out a hand, palm up on the table, and Kurt takes it, rubs his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles. “I forgive you, Kurt. I know it took the both of us to mess up the way we did. I don’t want to blame you anymore – I don’t blame you anymore. I’m not still thinking it in some corner of my mind, and I promise to never hold it against you.”

Kurt nods, his hand shaking a little bit in Blaine’s. “Okay, good, that’s good.”

“But you have to promise the same to me. Whatever you faulted me for in the past, you have to let it go, too.”

Kurt starts to pull his hand back, but Blaine holds on to it, adds his other hand to hold him tight. “Tell me I’m wrong, that you have really forgiven me for everything. For Eli, back in high school.”

“Blaine, that was so long ago…” 

Blaine waits. Kurt bites his lip, presses his eyes shut. He’s thinking about it. 

“No one had ever hurt me like that before,” Kurt says finally. “And it was what I had always worried about…”

“I know, and I’m sorry – so sorry. But you said you forgave me, and then you used it, for years after, like a joke. Like I was someone who simply could no longer be trusted.”

Kurt flinches, presses his eyes closed. “My dad always said that when two people really love each other, they can really hurt each other.”

Another stab of pain. Burt won’t be giving them any more advice. “He was right.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt says softly. “I will never hold that against you again. I promise.”

They are silent now, but Blaine doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand, and Kurt twines his fingers together with Blaine’s. Blaine is so tired, so very tired. He is tempted to put his head down on the table, and just fall asleep, just like that, Kurt’s hand in his. He rests his head on his arm. He doesn’t know what to do next.

“Blaine?”

Blaine looks up. Kurt’s eyes are red rimmed. He’s crying, so quietly Blaine hadn’t heard him. “Kurt?”

“Where do we go from here?” 

Blaine can’t take it anymore. It’s just too painful, watching Kurt dissolve in front of him. He’s out of his chair and pulling Kurt to his feet before he can think it through. Kurt’s arms go around him and they are holding each other tight, heads pressed together, hands grasping at shoulders, shaking and shuddering but not letting go.

“I love you, Kurt,” Blaine says fervently. “I love you, and I always have. I think I always will.” He presses his forehead to Kurt’s. “I want to try again. For real. If you want to.”

Kurt moves to see Blaine’s face, puts a hand to Blaine’s cheek. “I do, god, I really do.” He threads his fingers through the hair on the back of Blaine’s head and pulls him in for a hard, quick kiss. “I love you, too. So much. There’s never going to be anyone else for me.”

They cling to each other, not quite calmed down when they hear a throat clearing. They pull apart, laughing shyly as the waiter clears their table and gives them a look that indicates that they have overstayed their welcome. 

“Can I walk you home?” Kurt asks when they get outside. It’s not far, but they hold hands as they head down the street. 

It’s the best feeling in the world, Blaine thinks. Their hands were meant to hold each other. He knows they have a lot of work to do, that there is no guarantee that this time they’ll get it right. Their path has been winding, the woods filled with challenges and disappointments. But if they can figure it out, if they can learn to love each other through whatever tomorrow brings, it will have been well worth the journey.


End file.
